Adventures of a Screwed Up Clone
by QueenStarrOfTheUniverse
Summary: Dani's a world traveler, master escape artist and clone of the world-famous superhero, Phantom. Making the most of her accidential existence, she adventures around the world. Her travels lead her to Bludhaven, where she bumps into some trouble with the law (aka Officer Dick Grayson) and later, the legendary superhero Nightwing.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my next fanfiction! **

**This is another revolving POV story. Dick, Dani, Dick, and so on and so forth. I wanted to write this with the fast paced, one-shot-isque technique that I read from so many other fanfictions, but I honestly can't do it. I have to have plot and I'm pretty much incapable of writing in third person.**

**-All crediting goes to Sir Butch Hartman and the very numerous creators of Nightwing and all other things DC in this fiction-**

* * *

**Dick**

There are lots of ways people react to being in prison.

There are the untalented brutes and thugs; those who scream profanity and threats through their yellow teeth and unshaven faces. Some look like they belong. They kick their feet up, make themselves at home. Others are bored. These are the ones with connections, the ones we're most likely to lose in the next few hours.

All those types cycle through here every so often.

Holding cells are out in the open, like Gotham. Police officers work on paperwork to sounds of threats, bribe offerings, unprecedented screaming, etc. It becomes background noise at a point. We've seen it all; they're just a normal part of Bludhaven life.

But when they're quiet, watching, _fourteen..._

That's something new.

I stop when I notice the girl in the far back of the fourth cell, sitting in the middle of the bench to avoid the reach of the two cells beside her. She's one of the bored ones, shifting her weight and swinging her legs. It's not a nervous fidget, but conscious, letting us know she's bored and annoyed.

She's silent, ignoring the jibes from the thug to her right and a pair of very high women on her left. Instead of acknowledging them, she's watching the police officers. Her eyes trail me until I reach my desk before shifting away. They're wary, searching for threats. Unfortunately, you can find a lot of that in this police force.

After setting my things down on my desk, I lean across Roland's desk, drawing his attention up to me. "What, Grayson?" he snaps impatiently. I can tell he's at the end of a long ten-hour shift.

I jerk my head in the direction of the holding cells. "What's with the girl?"

He doesn't need to glance up. "She's someone Walton and I picked up when responding to a 10-50 at the corner of Hex and 126th around two this morning. We weren't sure if she saw something. She insisted she didn't, but she was the only one there and wouldn't produce ID or a full name, so we brought her in."

"What kind of 10-50?"

"PI," he responds, "Died en route to the hospital."

Fatal personal injury via hit and run. Not cool, but not seriously uncommon for Bludhaven, unfortunately. "Why's she still here?"

"We contacted social services, but you know how long they take. Since she's here, it could be a while."

Meaning that since she's in a holding cell, they can take as long as they want. It's ten in the morning. She spent last night here and would probably be here for tonight, too. Poor kid.

Roland watches me look at her again. "Don't, Grayson."

"Don't what?"

"Don't let her out. Kids like her are always flight risks. You know that."

I sigh. "Yeah." Then I pick up the stack of files on his desk and start sorting through them.

"Grayson…"

"Go home, Roland, your shift is over," I reply, still shuffling through the papers. "I'll finish the paperwork for your night."

"You weren't _there_." He lets out an audible huff before shoving the file he was working on into his desk. "But you already know that, just like you already know it's done and you're just hoping to question the kid." He throws on his jacket and winds the scarf around his neck. "If I didn't know you so well, Grayson, I wouldn't let you within ten yards of any kid."

I smirk. "It's my sparkling personality. I never mean anything untoward."

He waves me off with a choice finger. Roland has a short temper, but he's a good cop. We were partners for about three weeks until he threatened to quit if he didn't get reassigned.

I open the file for last night. Walton had a brief interrogation with her, but she refused to say anything. The report read:

_Call about 10-50, PI, received at approx. 01:37 a.m. Corner of 108th West and 126th South. Female adolescent about five feet one inches, present on scene. Responders arrived at approx. four minutes after call to 911, made by victim. Witness was attempting to aide the victim by using victim's jacket to stem blood flow from a laceration along the abdomen. After calling a rig, my partner, Officer Jake Roland and I, questioned the victim while still conscious. Witness attempted to slip away but Roland detained her in the back of the squad…"_

What follows is a large passage describing what their investigation yielded, which wasn't too much. It's protocol to write down everything anyway, though. The interrogation with the girl didn't yield anything, as she refused to say anything other than, "I didn't do anything!" and "Let me go!" After that, nothing.

I'd been on duty a few hours now, and now that my patrol was over I had paperwork to do about the four crimes I'd seen/investigated/prevented. A car robbery, two casino riots, and an assault/battery on a couple in an alley early in the morning.

I grab blank files and the key for the fourth cell, heading over to the girl.

She barely glances up when I approach, but her head shoots up when I fit the key in the lock. Her feet stop swinging, her arms unfold, and her body turns rigid as I swing open the door. I step back, allowing her a path out.

Her stare is locked on me, looking unconvinced and cautious. The man to her left jeers and attempts to grab her again, but she's still out of reach. I continue inviting her out, attempting to get her to speak.

She doesn't, and we stand at a stalemate.

I break first. "I'm just going to ask some more questions. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I hardly think it's fair that you should be punished for that."

She judges me with her eyes, raking across my face and stance, weighing her options. Finally, she steps forward, walking in the direct middle to avoid her neighbors. I close the door without taking my attention off of her and then lead her to one of our interrogation rooms.

The girl is constantly watching everything around her, from me to fellow cops to the building around her. She reminds me of Jason; her ragged clothes and dirty face certainly add to his image.

When I unlock the interrogation room, I have to lean into the door to jimmy out the lock. Not the safest, but at least it's hard to open instead of hard to lock. I pull it open, and out of the corner of my eye see a streak of movement.

My hand shoots out before I even have time to think, grabbing the back of her sweatshirt and pulling her towards me. She doesn't fight back, allowing me to switch my grip from grabbing to flat along her back, gently pushing her inside.

To my surprise, she doesn't look angry at all. She just pulls out a chair and climbs into it, looking more amused than anything.

"Sorry I grabbed you like that," I try, actually apologetic. It was kind of harsh, even if it was warranted.

"It's alright," she speaks the first words to me, "I figured I'd try but didn't you to do nothing."

Intelligent. Witty. Very no-nonsense but also optimistic.

"Would you like a drink?"

"How strong are you offering?"

I give her a light glare, and she grins. "I'm kidding, obviously. I know you're only offering water. Yes."

I leave the interrogation room and come back with water a few minutes later. She's swinging her legs again but stops when I place the plastic cup in front of her. She downs it in seconds and places it upside down in front of her.

She tilts her head when she notices I'm watching her. "Do you want me to thank you? Because water's free and a plastic cup's like... four cents."

I struggle to keep my smile under control. She's _just _like Jason!

Pulling out a chair, I sober my amusement and sit across from her. "Look, we need to know what happened out there."

"Some dude got hit by a car. I don't know what happened, I was just trying to help." She huffs and leans back in her chair. "Fat lot that did for me."

"Did anybody tell you what happened to him?"

"No, but he died."

"How would you know that?"

"Injury's fatal. I saw. His colon was up by his chest, _and_ it was leaking." She folds her arms. "What's inside the colon just upended itself inside his chest. The colon holds infection." She shrugs her shoulders. "Unless the EMTs knew that immediately, he was probably dead before he got to the hospital."

"Huh." I look down at the report and back at her. "And how'd you know that?"

"I've seen it before."

"Where?"

"Around."

She's not going to tell me, so I change tactics. "Can you provide me any details about the car?"

"It was wet. Because it was drizzly outside. It was black, because it was dark outside. It had wheels, because it was a car. And it was outside, because we were outside." She smirks. "Anything else you need to know?"

"It was outside for a while, because if it was only drizzling, you wouldn't have been able to see that it was wet if it was only outside for a couple of minutes. Dark, so the headlights were off. It was deliberate. And we will look at the tire tracks, thank you."

She looks mildly impressed.

"Did you know the victim?"

"Nah."

I write that down, then give her a smile. "Now, was that so hard?" I ask, trying my hardest to be as falsely patronizing as I can.

She rolls her eyes and kicks me in the shin under the table simultaneously. I push back, surprised, as a spasm of pain shoots from the future bruise. Surprised at the violent reaction, I rub the spot, regarding her with a new light.

"Was _that_ really so hard?" she replies back, a smile tugging at the sides of her mouth.

"Okay, I get it. No patronizing." I scoot my chair a little bit farther back. She's not violent, but definitely not a pacifist. She kicked me, a police officer, without thinking better of it first, so either a good read of people or impulsive. Maybe both.

"Yes, none of that."

"Back to the thing…" I gesture with the files and try to find another question she'll answer. "Can I have your full name?"

"No."

"I need a last name, too."

She gives a hint of a smirk. "No Way."

"What about a first name?"

"No."

"Can you tell me why?"

She decides to stay quiet. After a few moments of silence, I shrug and start writing one of my reports. After realizing she is being challenged, she settles into the silence stubbornly, filling the room with the sound of pen scratches. This goes on for about twenty minutes, allowing me to finish almost two reports, even though I have to fend her off from grabbing one of my files six or seven times.

Finally, I offer her a blank one if she answers my question.

She accepts, "You guys took my fingerprints. I don't want a name to that. I don't want anyone knowing my fingerprints." As she explains, she takes a blank report paper and starts folding it in sharp angles.

"Why not?" I press.

"I just don't."

"Planning a life of crime?"

"Not at the moment, but I don't plan that far ahead. I don't want to be part of any system, something that people can track or follow. I'm a… spirit." She smiles like it's an inside joke. "I come and I go and nobody can prove I was there in the first place."

My analysis continues running through my head. Thinks ahead for her own impulsivity. She plans for things that might happen or that she might do. Now she sounds like Batman.

"Are you running from something?"

She looks at me with her blue eyes, keeping them as blank as she can. I can't tell if she's hiding something, or if she just doesn't trust anyone with basic information.

"I have a lot of reasons for doing what I do." She leans back, satisfied with her dismissive answer. I wonder about her reaction. Is she running from something, or someone? "What about you? Why are you a cop?"

"Protect the innocent. It's not something terribly deep." I also use it as a cover for Nightwing, though sometimes I wonder if it just makes the whole thing harder. She seems to accept the answer, at least, which supports my theory that she can read people well.

"And patronize and interrogate them," she mutters, returning to her folds. "Because apparently, there's nothing better for you to do."

I sigh, but I know she's right. So much crime is going on in Bludhaven, and I'm here with this teenage girl because she was already here. The ones that are easy to catch aren't usually the problem.

"Can I leave?"

"Well, you're a minor, with no identification."

"Oh." She deflates, sinking down. "You called the parent cops."

I tilt my head sympathetically. "Yeah. Unless you have parents we can call."

She lets out a long sigh. "Nope." I'm silent, because I can feel words burning in her mouth, and know that if I speak, she'll lose her chance. "Can't you just let me go?" The words tumble out all at once. "It'll open up a cell, and it's not like I've made any trouble. I'll just leave whatever foster home I'm put in, so it's not even effective!"

I shake my head. "It's not that…"

She narrows her eyes and snaps, "Then what?"

"You don't have any identification. You're the only witness, and we have no way of reaching you. We don't know anything about you. It's just protocol."

She sighs. "I see."

"Why are you living on the street?" I ask curiously, leaning back.

She raises an eyebrow at the change in tone, offering a shrug in reply.

"You're not a child murderer, are you?"

She snickers. "No, none of that."

I can tell by the way she reacts that she's telling the truth. She seems like a good kid. It doesn't even look like she has the anger issues Jason had at her age.

"So why are you on the streets?"

She sighs. "You say that like I have anywhere else to go. Bad things happen to good people. I'm sure you must have experience with that, working as a cop and all." Don't I. "Bad things have happened to me." She leans back, final, her face betraying nothing with the information. "And yes, I know all my options. Foster home, orphanage, if those even still exist. I even have people that would take me in if I wanted. But I chose the streets. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Loitering," I challenge.

"Seriously?" She laughs. "Bludhaven, and every other city in the world, for that matter, have way worse things to worry about!"

"Drugs."

"Don't do 'em."

"Sell them?"

"Nah. Money doesn't really matter to me."

She betrays no signs that she disagrees with what she just said. Then again, there are no signs she agrees, either. This kid is a difficult one to read when she wants to be, I'll give her that.

"What do you do for food?"

She shrugs, focusing back on her origami project.

Before I can ask another question, there's a knock at the door.

I turn to see Captain Wilson and a woman I recognize as a part of social services. Wilson leans in and gestures out to me. "Come on, Grayson, your time's better used elsewhere."

"But I can solve this case," I state clearly, knowing that even if I can, he won't let me anyway. He keeps me open for bigger cases, and even then I'm always the tag-along cop to the detectives. As I expect, he shakes his head and gestures out the door. I spent the better half of my life training under the greatest detective in the world, but here I am, getting kicked off yet another case. I nod curtly to my captain and turn to the girl. "See you around."

She nods and flicks her finished origami piece at me, which looks like a little reaper/ghost thing. "I expect you will."

Somehow, I doubt that means I'll see her next in a foster home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dani**

It took about four seconds to escape the parent cop. She left me in the hot car, almost one o'clock in the afternoon in the middle of May, to go inside and get _coffee_ from a cafe. I'm not surprised. I've met some very nice social workers, and she is not one of them.

Why go into social work if you're just going to be awful? It can't be for the money.

Whatever. I walk through the security glass divider between the front and back seats to steal forty bucks from her glove compartment.

She won't miss it. There are wads of twenties all shoved in a gallon plastic bag. Probably sells drugs to kids or something.

I stroll away from the car and disappear into the bustle of afternoon traffic, making sure to keep my hat low on my forehead in case I ran into the few cops I'd met in this city. I'm not staying for long, but I came all this way to meet the next hero on my list, so I'm not leaving until I've seen him.

So I have this list. It's my reason to travel the world. It has all the superheroes on it. Or at least all the ones I've seen or heard of. Sometimes I go to a random city and meet a hero that hasn't made the papers yet.

I've been to Greece, Russia, England, France, Germany, and Egypt searching for them. Not for autographs, or because I'm obsessed and need a glimpse. But it seemed like an appropriate list to follow, given my family, and there are so many nowadays that I'd be traveling all over the world.

And I have.

Now, I'm in Bludhaven, to see the legendary Nightwing. I'd been here three days with no luck, and it was just dumb circumstance that landed me at the corner where that dude got hit by the car.

At least it wasn't all bad. That one cop was nice. A little naive, but nice.

I head down to the docks, knowing crime happens as easy as walking down here. Cops don't usually care. Or maybe they do and just can't make it down here; at any rate, it's clear of cops and of people that might report me. Assuming the social worker even contacted the cops in the first place.

A ship just docked, and people have massed around, either disbarking or unloading. Someone tries to pickpocket me twice, but there's nothing in my pockets. My money is stuffed in my shoe and the very few possessions I own otherwise are phased into the ground at the foot of the "Welcome to Bludhaven" sign.

I've been doing this a long time.

Once the crowd thins out, I spot the pier and go there. I love the pier. Sure, it's nearly black with tar and any respectable people have been left behind a long ways back. But there's a sea breeze full of salt and mist and the noise of the dock is a low buzz in the background.

Deserted, except for the rare homeless slump waiting for dusk's drug deals. I learned very quickly from my travels how to identify the dangers of a particular city. If I fell asleep where gangs came to communicate, that could lead to a full-on war if I were spotted and assumed a spy. If I stumble on a bunch of kids' hideout, I would be assimilated.

Man, the adventures I've had.

I climb on a stack of lone barrels and boxes near the edge of the boardwalk. It's probably been here for months, maybe years. The wood is weak, but I'm not too heavy, so it creaks but doesn't crack. Swinging my legs, I watch the ocean and the bustle of the dock.

This city would be quite the destination if it weren't so crime-ridden and dirty. In fact, I think the main pier, which is further down the shore, is a popular tourist destination, if all the signs posted are any indication.

This pier was probably popular once, too, but it's too forgotten and old.

History interests me, and I find myself wondering about the particular history of this dock. Of this whole city. This beautiful destination must've been used for something other than casinos and gangs at some point. I suppose that's why Nightwing wound up here. Something so beautiful should be preserved, right?

I let the wind ruffle my hair. A pang of loneliness hits me unexpectedly. Someone should be sitting here with me.

As if in response, I hear an unidentifiable but distinctly human noise just off to my right. I glance around but find no one. I half expect to turn around and find the legendary Nightwing (that has happened in one or two cities), but there's no one.

I slide off the stack of crates, causing the noise to start again. Is it a whine, a cry or a groan? I don't want to unearth a high thug. Deciding the noise is originating from the pile of wood I'd just left, I pull the nearest crate out from the pile and lean over it.

I find a pile of cloth.

Leaning further over the crate, I reach towards the cloth, figuring there must be a child or something underneath.

I uncover a dirty, obviously sick newborn.

"Hi, baby, baby," I coo, reaching under the baby's neck and bottom. "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, girlie, girlie," comes a mocking voice from behind me. Masculine and sinister, a taunting tone to his voice. I already know this will end badly. How did he sneak up so quickly? "What are you doing here?"

Since I'm already halfway out with the baby, I can't replace him quickly enough when hands pull me out by my legs. My skin scrapes roughly on the wood, but I grit my teeth against the pain and dig my elbows into the crate. It doesn't slow me down much, but I kick my legs to remedy that.

With one lucky kick, the guy grunts and drops my legs. They slam rather painfully onto the dock, but since my elbows are still locked on the crate the baby is unharmed. I waste a precious second trying to see the baby in my hands, giving the other guy time to reach me again.

This time, when he yanks me towards him, I have just enough time to set the baby down before his hands are on my shoulders. I wrench out of his grip, throwing my body to the side so one of his hands loses its grip. I back kick him hard on the knee so I can escape the hold, whirling to properly face my opponent.

I'm by no means a skilled fighter. Yeah, I've learned street fighting to a T and some would say that makes me good. But if my opponent has official training, like a hero or villain, I'm screwed. This guy, fortunately, is nothing more than a thug. Probably a druggy.

He throws a punch, intent on getting me in the face, but I easily sidestep it. Druggy is thin and dirty. Still twice my size, but that's never stopped me before.

I let him come at me a few times more, allowing him to lead me to the opposite side of the dock. When my back hits the rail, he gives a yellow-toothed smile, reeling for a final punch. He throws all his weight behind it, right at my face again.

I tilt my head away from where he aims, and he's thrown forward. Moving quickly, I shoulder his waist and grasp his disgusting bare legs, tipping him over my shoulder and into the sea below.

He bellows until he hits the water, back first, with a satisfying smack.

Finished, I wipe my hands off on my jeans and return to the child. He's so small and sick. He has a clump of sparse brown hair and though I can't see his eyes, as they're tightly shut, I imagine they're the most brilliant shade of blue. His skin still has visible veins, and his face is red.

I murmur to him comfortingly as I make my way back down the dock, careful of any other friendly drug addicts.

"I'm going to call you Jack," I decide as I head to where I thought I saw a hospital. "Because you're going to be huge, just like Danny's dad. Plus, Vlad hates him, so he's probably a hero. He's a little daft, but you won't be like that. You have to be a special kind of person to be like that."

The streets are starting to fill with people as rush hour draws closer, and I have to hold Jack tightly against my chest to keep the passersby from jostling him. The more the streets fill, the harder it becomes to sense direction. Soon, I'm hopelessly lost and being swept along by the crowd.

Deciding to break free, I head towards the street, where the public avoids a good two feet of sidewalk space for taxi room. I end up on the corner, still trying to decide where to head next. I'm on Georges and Fourteenth. Where is that?

"Hey, I know you," comes from behind me.

I cannot roll my eyes far enough into the back of my head.

I turn to face the cop I'd left at the station however many hours ago. He's leaning against his cop car that I hadn't seen when I'd breached the crowd, his arms folded and a pleasant smile on his face.

"Where's the social worker?" he asks, eyes glimmering in amusement as he rocks off his car and comes closer to me.

I glare. "I threw her into the ocean."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "Really?"

"NO."

His smile returns full force. "So you just… left, then?"

I roll my eyes again. "Did you know that unless you are a cop car, all barred off back seats are required to have an emergency fire release? It's in between the seat cushions."

That's not a lie, actually.

"Yeah, but I didn't know that's where they put foster kids."

Sweet little innocent boy.

"Right. Anyway," I turn back to the crowd.

"Wait, you still shouldn't be on the streets by yourself!"

"That's exactly where I should be," I snap, turning back to him. But then I remember the bundle in my arms. I don't know where the hospital is, but I'm guessing Officer Innocence here does. "But I'm not alone anyhow."

His eyes dart to the bundle pressed to my chest. "Is that a baby?"

"His name is Jack," I affirm. "Anyway, he's yours now." I shove the baby at him, only hesitating long enough to see him carefully catch Jack and cradle him into the crook of his elbow before I disappear back into the rush hour traffic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dick**

After the hospital took the baby-under the name Jack Doe, thanks to the street girl- I return home, because my shift was over a long time ago.

I hadn't known she was back on the streets-social workers rarely report escaped children in Bludhaven-but it's not like I'd expected otherwise. Clearly, this kid's been doing this for a while. I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned.

Given she found a baby that same day, I'm leaning towards impressed. No, wait. That's concerning.

See? I'm in the middle.

When I return to my apartment, the clock is inching towards nine and the rioting of the night is beginning. Bludhaven is worse than New York City; it never, ever sleeps.

Unfortunately, I have to.

I head to bed for a brief power nap after scraping together some dinner with my sparse options and taking a long overdue shower. My mind is still on the girl. As accustomed to the streets as Jason, as clever as Tim, as upbeat as Steph, as sharp-tongued as Damian. Funny, like me.

With only the two short conversations, these might seem like premature estimates. But I can tell. I've always been good at reading people. She's so... _good_. I just don't think she likes being that way.

I wake up to my internal clock demanding action. A quick glance at the clock informs me that it's a little past eleven, which adds up to more sleep than I got last night. Hurrying into my Nightwing uniform, the excitement that always pulses through me when I plan on going out is pushing me forward, demanding the night to begin.

Soon enough, my belt is secured on my waist and I'm crawling out my window.

My first line shoots into the air, hook grabbing at the stone seamlessly and my body swinging out into open air. This feeling never gets old. The wind on your face, the adrenaline pumping through you, your hair whipping behind you…

It's half the reason I do this.

Patrol is nothing out-of-the-ordinary. There's a gang dealing a new drug with a longer high but a bigger crash that everyone wants. They employ teens. The gang is evil, but lacks the brains and ruthlessness that turn dangerous gangs into a bigger problem. It's simple.

There are a couple drug deals I halt, leaving the kids roped up in fishing lines and out of reach of the exposed drug littering the ground. I stop several attempted muggings and robberies, but for the most part, the city is calm.

After a huge schism in the criminal underworld that I definitely did not (:D) orchestrate, gangs and criminals are unorganized. That could be dangerous, but luckily it's just left them in a state of confusion, grappling for a new leader.

So I spend the night on good-old patrol; looking out for crime while simultaneously practicing acrobatic stunts.

Near four in the morning, I notice a shipment coming in that I hadn't been expecting. Yeah, yeah, I was trained by Batman and memorize the shipping schedules each night. It's habit.

Disappearing into the shadows of past shipment containers, I observe the unloading of several mismatched packages. Personalized shipment.

A cloaked leader (always the sign of a villain or cult leader, in my experience) orders people around with gestures. I'm tempted to jump in, but hold myself still. I don't know anything about these guys.

"Hey!" yells a guy off to my right. Ugh. I've only been here for a couple minutes. "Hey, that's Nightwing!"

Crap.

I flip onto the box behind me just as it's peppered with bullets. Not stopping or even slowing down, I continue moving in unpredictable twists until safely behind a metal shipping container.

Moving away from cover, I toss several smoke bombs from my belt into the center of their formation before running after them myself. Withdrawing my escrima sticks, I begin incapacitating the men one by one, causing mass confusion in the lingering smog. As soon as I can see the boat again clearly, I notice that it's deserted of any other ship workers or cult masters.

I approach cautiously, sheathing my

"It's Nightwing, right?"

I survey in front of me for just a second before twisting to avoid a flying projectile. The offender stands casually on a tower of crates, dressed in all black. Flowing scraps of fabric billow around her very feminine figure, betraying her need for dramatics. Her hair is loose, but in a way that's almost fake, and I decide it's a wig. She's wearing sunglasses, which I'm guessing has some major tech inside, and a face mask that draws up to just underneath them.

She tosses what I now decide are incredibly sharp throwing stars, and I narrowly, _narrowly_ dodge them. I swear one of them cut a scrap of my hair.

"Not impressed."

Utilizing my speed and knowing I'll need it, I lay out difficult and unpredictable dodges, all a distraction for moving closer to her. She throws several more, which continue to get too close, before withdrawing a hunter's knife in each hand, blades following along her arm. My momentum carries me forward, too late to back away from close contact.

I twist over her first thrust, planting my arm on her shoulder to throw my legs up and miss the next jab. While I have my hand there, I use my thumb to press on a pressure point between her mask and shoulder.

Her body thrusts away from the sensitive touch, her arms coming up to slice at my arm as her body twists out of the way.

But I've already moved my hand and am back on my feet, this time with an escrima stick in each hand.

Her next strike is intense and skilled, aiming to wrap her blade around one of my sticks and force it out of my hand. I spin it around the blade in response, ending up with it back in my hand. She can't pull back fast enough and her blade continues, leaving me an open window to aim a stick into a nerve cluster in her shoulder joint.

She dodges with minuscule margins, causing me to miss the cluster and hit just to the side of it. Instead of immobilizing her, it shoots pain down her shoulder instead. I know, because I've felt it like that before. Using that distraction, I send my left foot at her lowered hand and my right hand to her uninjured weapon, disarming both.

Faster than I'd imagined she would've reacted, her foot kicks up into my chest. I am forced back, winded. She advances and trips me backwards, pushing a new blade at my neck. My escrima sticks come up in an X, catching the blade just before it pierces my throat. She kneels uncomfortably on my thighs, restricting me from rolling away or using my legs to push her back.

Usually at this point I need a distraction (sometimes one I make up) or just the slightest give in our impasse to throw her off. Deciding after a moment that this will not yield until she stabs me, I rear up the most successful distraction: "Over here!". Makes them look back, searching for who I'd called for.

But one moment she's bearing down on me, and the next, she's swept aside. I try not to smirk. I like that distraction better. Wasting no time, my now-freed limbs flip me back onto my feet so I can survey what just happened.

I look around for my mysterious attacker only to find the shipyard's crane swinging out over the ocean. It's large hook is probably what hit her off of me. When the chain swings back, I launch onto it, securing my left foot into the hook so I can hang on for the ride.

It swings again up to its apex before heading back over to where my assailant probably fell, but I can see no sign of her on the dock or in the black waves.

The crane jerks erratically, pitching the hook almost sideways. I use a hook on my belt to secure me to the wavering chain I was losing hold of, only to realize, as I pushed my hands in two different links for added grasp, that either the one manning the crane was trying to hit me or hit her.

If it was meant to hit me, sucky aim. If it was meant to hit her…

She'd climb to find out who, right?

I unhook my belt as soon as the chain settles so I can grab the link above my head. Only a few pulls later and the chain pitches again, threatening to drop me onto the dock nearly twenty feet below.

Groaning, I pull myself up as soon as the chain dies down, even though it's still shaking. It starts to move to the right, but I don't stop for that. It's moving, but not in a way that makes it impossible to climb.

Several more times it moves, but I manage to hold fast to the chain and make it up far enough that I can use my grappling hook to connect to the cabin of the crane.

One of the windows is shattered, and there's sounds of a very intense fight. Knowing it might get me skewered by a stray knife, I crash through the remains of the broken window. Luckily, there were no airborne knives.

The cabin is spacious for a crane; maybe twenty by ten feet. The stools and card table are broken. Knives are lodged in the wall, floor and control panel, and their thrower is crashed against a wall. Not like someone threw her against it, though, but like she was running and didn't expect to hit the wall. Wally does that sometimes.

Standing behind the remains of the upturned card table is the girl I met in the station. Her cocky smile is pulled into a more serious expression as she puts distance between the other. The two seem completely focused on each other, though they both vaguely recognize my presence by glancing in my direction.

The assailant advances again, but the girl whips her clasped hands apart, throwing a torrent of playing cards into her vision. As soon as the cards are in the air, she grabs the now two-legged stool from the floor of the cab and swings it around into her head.

Caught off guard, she falls, surprised, to the ground. I move quickly to enter the fight, seeing that the kid has run out of tricks. With a sweep of my escrima stick, the assailant is unconscious.

The girl lets out a held breath and wipes away a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead.

"Still unimpressed?" I quip at my assailant's form. Then I look at the girl again, who's eyeing the door and the distance to it.

Not ready to let her disappear again, I step in her path. "And who are you?"

"Someone who's ready to cash in that favor I did you a little while ago."

My mouth quirks up.

"But I didn't say I owed you one, did I?"

"Fine. Next time I'll let her… do whatever it was she was doing."

"What's your name?"

She looks like she's about to refuse, but pauses and instead responds, "Dani."

Finally, a _name!_ That was driving me nuts.

"What were you doing here?"

"What's _your _name?" she shoots back. I don't respond, and she nods smugly. "I don't have to tell you anything. But in case you're worried, I only came into this crane when I saw that-" she waves an arm over the unconscious form of my attacker "attack you on the dock."

"We were only like that for a few minutes," I note, looking through the window where I'd been. Everything is tiny up here, and the docks are dark despite the regulated lights.

"Not then. I came up before that. She just gave me a good opportunity. Anyway, she's been awake and listening to us." Dani nods at the lump and I narrow my eyes, withdrawing my weapons again and stepping closer to the attacker. Nothing happens, so I cautiously poke her face with my stick. Usually, cocky criminals like her can't take that.

When nothing happens, I recognize Dani's distraction as a success. Just as I realize that, I look around for her, noticing that the door, which had been closed before, was wide open.

I dart forward, looking for her shape scrambling down the ladder. Remarkably, she'd slid down and was now at the bottom. I can barely make out her arm as she gives a huge wave back before disappearing into the shipyard.

_Wow, she's good._

* * *

**Quick response to the comment regarding Dani's powers: she did use them, when she escaped the car. She just doesn't often because as it will explain more in the next chapter, she's trying to preserve Danny's identity as he becomes more pronounced in the superhero world. And there was the whole year where she couldn't use any of her powers, because otherwise she'd dissolve, so she has plenty of skills and doesn't need her powers most of the time. **

**~Disclaimer Disclaimer~**


	4. Chapter 4

Invisible, I walk through the halls of the hospital peds floor, looking for the tell-tale purple wraps that people wear in the NICU.

After a lot of wandering, I find it, though not because of the purple. As it turns out, people shed those purple wrapper things before they leave. Who knew?

I turn intangible through the glass and stay that way, knowing full well how dirty I am. There are a lot of parents clustered around different isolettes, but I ignore those and instead walk in front of each of the lone babies without visitors.

And… there he is.

I stop in front of Jack's, who's asleep. I look at his chart, which, to my pleasure, has the name "Jack Doe" written on it. The vitals displayed on the nearby monitor look normal, even if I'm not a doctor. Nothing's beeping, at least.

Satisfied with his well being, I leave the NICU and drop my intangibility.

Even if he is healthy, he's still all alone. I might not be able to take him in myself, but maybe I can stay and make sure he's put somewhere good. Nothing like wherever I was going. Maybe out of the city.

Yeah, even though I've met and even talked to Nightwing, I'll stick around for a little while longer. For Jack. And because is would make me greatly happy to antagonize Nightwing. I antagonized Green Arrow once, and that was fun. He never really saw me, though. I just messed with his arrows.

When I leave the hospital, I disappear into an alley to turn visible before rejoining the crowds. I wander around, at a loss of what to do for the day.

For the morning, I end up spending my time at the library, researching the going-ons of Amity Park. It'd only been five or six months since Danny stabilized me, and I had only been back once: Christmas Day.

He had a new sweatshirt and beanie for me while I gave him a star map I found in a ruins somewhere in the middle east. I forget exactly where. It's a big world.

Since, I see he's been busy protecting the town and the world. A couple world-wide attacks had occurred, but every time I prepare to go help it's handled before I get very far.

The newspaper I'm currently looking at shows Phantom starting to appear in Justice League functions. They teamed up once with a huge American attack mid April. I'd missed it while I was in Russia.

Good for you, cuz. Being a _real _superhero.

Ha. He'd hurt me if I'd said that.

The past few weeks showed him with Superman, Wonder Woman, the Hawkpeoples and Zatanna. I look at the article of him waving goodbye to Superman, a light smile on his face as he begins to fly away.

He's changed his uniform a little. The white belt now has gadgets on it. There are green undertones to some areas on his suit, making it easier to recognize at first glance. It's now obvious he's a hero. Before, eh. It could've gone either way.

After researching him, I read for a little while about the history of Bludhaven. I usually do research on the places I visit; it makes it easier to blend in and vanquish long forgotten curses (it happens more times than you'd think).

Near two in the afternoon, I decide I'm starving, so I wander back out into the sunlight. Or, as close to sunlight as Bludhaven can get.

I get food at McDonald's, as it forever has the cheapest food. As soon as I leave, a kid a few years younger than me rushes past, almost running me over. Behind him are two guys with expensive suits, faces curled into anger.

As they pass, I stick out my foot, upending one into the other. They go down in a tangle of cursing and limbs. I look to the kid, who's looking back. He nods and I hold up a hand in a wave. Then we go our separate ways.

I realize, as I continue exploring the city, that this is my sixth day in the city. I usually don't stay so long; maybe three, four days.

I explore that day and well into the next, sleeping for only a few hours at dusk and another couple at dawn. Luckily, I'd discovered that my body stays well-rested with only five or six hours a night, whereas if I were a normal teen, it'd be more around eight or nine.

Near eight on my seventh day in Bludhaven, I'm dozing on a fire escape, my sweatshirt off and wadded up underneath my head. Even with an aired out space, no blanket, and my outfit of a t-shirt and shorts, I'm still too warm. Don't mistake this for some ice core I inherited from my cousin; Bludhaven in May is just hot.

The fire escape vibrates, threatening to jostle me awake. I semi-surface from my nap but fall back under, completely convinced that the movement was a dream.

Until the clang associated with shoes on a rickety fire escape wakes me up for real.

I'm convinced it's Nightwing, so I lazily sit up and stretch, yawning loudly and prying my eyes open. But instead of the black and blue superhero, it's a teen in street clothes (and I mean Bludhaven street clothes; dirty t-shirt, ripped jeans, old and raggy sneakers and an obviously unwashed body), leaning on the railing with crossed arms and a smirk.

"You woke me up," I complain half-heartedly, picking up my sweatshirt in case I need to get out of here fast.

"You were sleeping on the fire escape," he responds, a note of mischief in his tone. "What if there had been a fire?"

"I'd probably go sleep somewhere else, honestly. It's hot enough."

He grins.

"So. Is there a reason you're here, or did you just come to bother me?"

"Both." He folds his arms smugly, grinning like it's the funniest and wittiest joke that's ever existed. Ever. "We've been trying to track you down since yesterday."

He makes it sound likes he's been trying to find me for years or something. I resist the urge to sigh. "'We'?"

"My organization and I. We like to call ourselves the junior underworld. I'm one of the leaders of said organization. Another one of our members came back to us yesterday saying you helped him out of a sticky situation. We decided you were worth finding."

This dude is so melodramatic. He's right out of a dystopian romance novel. Still, I can't quite remember what I did yesterday, so, stupidly, I blurt, "The baby sent you?"

Confusion registers on his face, "... He's like nine…"

Now I remember. "Ohhhh, the pickpocket thing. Yeah, it was no problem, but I'm not looking to join any organization. I'm a nomad. I'm only staying for a little while longer."

"My sources also say you escaped the police."

I frown. "It was the parent police, not the actual police."

"So you weren't at the station?"

"No, I was…" I sigh. "Look, you're looking too much into this. All I did was walk away from a car when this super mean parent cop left me in there to grab coffee. I tripped two dudes when they ran past me after a kid. It's nothing."

"What about the baby you mentioned?"

I wave him off. "I found him in the trash. Then I used him to get away from this police officer, since that particular police officer isn't bad."

The guy grins. "Grayson?"

I raise my eyebrows and lean back as he takes a step forward. "Who?"

"Black hair, blue eyes, perfect body and face? Blinding smile?" I nod reluctantly. "Yeah, he's our favorite. Probably the smartest and most competent of the entire force, but he never goes after us. In fact, sometimes he'll keep cash and food in his pocket for us to nab."

"Are you sure you're not just stealing it?"

"Trust me, we're not. Besides, I find it hard to believe _you_ are so innocent yourself."

I shrug. "It's hard to think of myself like that when it's me."

"Here. Come with me back to our base and hang with us for the day. I think you'll like it."

I groan but slide into my sweatshirt anyway. "I'm not joining anything. I swear, if I end up in some kind of huge drug deal, I'll throw you off the pier. Personally."

He laughs. "I promise. You won't."

* * *

**There you are. This will be more fast-paced, as the next few chapters will see Dani and Dick bonding and hopefully Dick's move back to Gotham. **

**Tell me your thoughts!**

**~Disclaimer, Disclaimer~**


	5. Chapter 5

I'm on duty when I get the call that we need to get down to the District. Something big and gun-filled is going down. My partner is driving, and unfortunately very intent on not letting me sneak off again. He's my friend, so he hasn't reported me, but he said if I do it again he will.

Grumpy, I check my gun and restock my belt with extra ammo. Deluca, my partner, takes a sharp corner, nearly fishtailing as we join the mass of other squads.

We launch out of the car, leaving our lights flashing and doors open as we run up to the force, who's taking refuge behind open car doors. Gunfire is sparse here, but the thick of it can only be reached by running fifty yards of open air. So we're back here, waiting for someone to have an idea.

I start suggesting some to my captain, but he, as usual, doesn't want to try any. "Grayson! Get back!" he eventually snaps at me.

I sulk away. All my plans would've worked, but the Captain is always afraid something will change. He's a fan of controlled environments with known results. Which is never a police's life.

Searching for a way to get through this myself, I spot a figure on the fire escape behind the barricade of police cars we've set up. It's waving at us. Or, more specifically, me. I'm the farthest back from my comrades, so I can't tell if it's because of my position or me as person.

Regardless, I jog over. As I near, I realize I recognize this person, as both Grayson and Nightwing.

I barely catch myself from greeting her by name. "What are you doing here?" I ask instead, stepping out of the other officers' line of sight.

She looks annoyed. Incredibly annoyed. "I was hanging out with this guy, Lance, and somehow we got mixed up in this crap. He ran off to find his brother a little while ago, but some of his friends are still in there."

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know. I think one of their 'members'" she uses air quotations "was trying to steal something off one of those guys, but they're a gang and have guns, so…" She gestures behind her and shrugs. "I'm not a part of this. And also, I have to throw Lance off the pier."

I regard her with calculation. She's barely contained, but I don't think it's from anger. Yes, she's annoyed, but the strain in her voice sounds different. Worse. "Do you have any ideas?" I ask her.

"Just _surround_ them," she stresses, exasperated. "I don't care. You guys are cops, you shouldn't just be sitting there…"

Now she sounds far away, and I worry about a concussion. "Can you stay here?"

For whatever reason, she sits on the fire escape heavily, leaning her head back on the brick.

I go back to my team, who are still just standing there. I go up to my captain, suggesting once more that we do something. He ignores me. I threaten to go by myself, and he waves me off, muttering, "Yeah, do that."

I don't think he heard me. I'm white noise to him.

Whatever. That's consent.

So I skirt the furthest squad and take off over the pavement. My partner shouts at me, but I'm already halfway across the empty space, staying low and running in unpredictable patterns. When I reach the gunfire, I take cover behind a nearby dumpster for a split second to assess, compiling where the enemies are, their targets and attentions, and what they are likely to do next.

After a moment, I leap into action.

It's surprisingly easy to disarm the outliers, avoiding notice for several seconds before they realize there is a mutual enemy. By that time, I've disarmed several and have the attack plan of the rest figured out.

In less than a minute, all twenty or so of the gangsters are on the ground. I'm joined, now that the gunfire has stopped, by my team. My captain yells at me, threatening to put me on probation, fire me, the works. But we both know the force doesn't function without me, and besides. He told me I could.

Wasting as little time as possible, I pack the gangsters into the squads, check on the kids Dani had warned me about, and then steal away to go talk to her, throwing a goodbye to my captain over my shoulder. To my utter shock, she's still where I left her.

I ask her if she's hurt.

"My foot, I think. I was just going to stay here until you guys left. Maybe overnight? It'll be better in the morning."

"May I?" I gesture to her foot. She raises an eyebrow, as her foot is about eye length. In a swift movement, I plant my foot on the nearest rung, which is a little over four feet off the ground, and swing my other leg up and over the rail, landing neatly on the platform next to her.

She gives me a mild look of surprise as I kneel next to her and take her foot in my hands. She winces a bit when I feel along it, so I withdraw and set it back carefully. "It may be fractured," I tell her, though I'm pretty sure it's just a sprain. "And you're bleeding from your head."

Her hand comes up to the side of her head, brushing her fingers along the dried blood there. "It's barely a scratch," she insists. "It's already stopped bleeding. I hate hospitals and refuse to go there."

"I'm not saying you should go to a hospital," I defend. "Just… Come with me. I don't want you running around on a possibly broken foot. Besides, I have food and a shower."

She stares, looking me up and down, probably trying to gauge if that's even half a good idea. I'll admit: it's probably not. I mean, if it were anyone other than me. She's quiet for a while until finally giving me a reluctant nod.

I move to help her up, but she does it herself, warning me off with a look. With a shrug, I swing over the railing and land, crouched, on the ground. When Dani does the same, I catch her around the waist before she can land on her hurt foot, immediately setting her down after.

She looks a bit surprised, almost like she forgot she was hurt in the first place. Then she nods over to the empty streets. "Where is everyone?"

"They're all packed away."

"So we're just going to walk to your house?"

I shrug, looking up at the sky. It's not raining. "It's only a couple blocks away."

She rolls her eyes and stubborns forward, heavily favoring her hurt foot while scowling. I'm guessing it's because she decided to come with me anyway. To be honest, I'm a little surprised at myself too. It's not often I decide to bring in strays. But what can I say? She's practically Jason.

"How old are you?" I ask cheerfully.

"You ask a lot of alarming questions," she responds dully.

"I'm a curious soul." Unapologetic, I lead her around the corner with a smile. She rolls her eyes. "What's your name?"

She sighs, but answers, "Dani. With an i."

I grin. "I'm Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick."

She barks out a laugh.

"No, seriously."

At my plaintive tone, she laughs harder. "That's so unfortunate," she explains, as if I don't already know.

"I blame popular culture."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm named after a boy."

"Danny?"

"Wow, how are you still a cop?! You should be a detective."

I laugh at her sarcasm. "Don't I know it."

We get to my apartment complex, and I buzz us in. Dani watches a couple of the residences here that are wandering around the lobby with their guide dogs/people. When we get in the elevator, she asks about it.

"I live above a home for blind people," I answer casually. "Ironically, I like the view."

She rolls her eyes again. When my elevator stops at my floor and I lead her into my apartment, I watch her eyes mark my living area. I see her notice the cleanliness, the lack of dishes in the sink, the single set of keys I put on the counter, the bare walls and empty living room.

She still walks inside, so I'm guessing I passed whatever test she'd set for me in her head. I shrug off my coat and belt, hanging them on the sad, empty coat rack. When I turn back around, she'd opened the drapes for my large window. "I see what you mean," she mentions. I see her watching the glass for my reflection.

"And you rolled your eyes." After that, I go to the closet, grabbing my smaller first-aid kit. "Not to be 'alarming' as you'd put it…" She gives me an annoyed look. "But do you want to wrap your foot or take a shower first?"

Dani thinks for a minute before saying, "Shower, I think."

"I think I have some clothes your size. My brother has problems with his dad, so he keeps a supply of them in case he wants to be pissed off here."

She laughs again. "You're so creepy. 'Come home with me, little Dani', 'take a shower, Dani', 'wear my brother's clothes, lit-'"

"I get it, I get it," I interrupt, trying not to find it funny. "It's not creepy. I prefer to think of it as _nice_."

"Sure, sure…" she waves me off and goes towards where I'd gestured to the bathroom. "No thank you, your brother can keep his angst wear."

She shuts the door as I laugh.

* * *

**I know it seems unlikely that Dani would just go to a random dude's house, but she's been doing this awhile and I would think she has a pretty good judge of character.**

**Thanks for so much positive feedback!**

~Disclaimer Disclaimer~


	6. Chapter 6

I take a shower quickly, keeping an ear out for Dick. Ha. His name makes me giggle.

You'd think I would know better than to follow strangers home, but… I can't explain it. He doesn't give off that vibe. In fact, he reminds me so much of Danny. I think if being an astronaut doesn't work out for him, I'm going to recommend he be a cop.

And I know trusting people hasn't exactly worked out well for me in the past. But I figure, he doesn't know I'm half ghost. I doubt he even believes in ghosts, let alone halfas. Even if trusting him does go sideways, I have my powers to get myself out. Still, I don't think it'll come to that. Dick is just… _good._

My foot aches, but I'm not too worried about it. It'll probably be good in the morning. I wince as I step out of the shower, though it feels heavenly to be clean again. Unless I score enough to buy a hotel room, I don't often make sure I'm clean.

When I exit the bathroom, dressed in the same worn clothes and ponytail I'm always in, I see that Dick has changed into sweats and a t-shirt. He's working on his laptop, his phone pressed between his ear and shoulder so he can type. Spotting me, he smiles and hangs up without saying goodbye.

"Who was that?" I ask, not really worried, though I guess I should be.

"My brother." He pauses when I look at him before adding, "A different one. I have a few."

"How many is a few?"

He shrugs. "I lose track."

"You said 'his' dad," I recall from his earlier comment, taking a seat on one of the dining room chairs. As he talks, I take the ace bandage from the first aid kit and wrap up my foot.

Approval flashes in his eyes, though at my comment or my expert wrapping skills I'm not sure. "Yeah. My dad isn't really my dad. He adopted me. He's adopted a lot of people, but the particular brother I was talking about before is Damian, his only biological son. He loves to rub that in all our faces."

"Adopted?"

"My parents died when I was nine."

"That sucks." But, I mean, my only parents are my DNA source and his evil stalker, so… Sorry not sorry? I can't wrap my mind around losing someone close to me. All I have is Danny, and we're not even that close. I mean, we are… It's just… complicated.

He gives me an odd look. "That's one way to put it."

There's a knock at the door. I tense, but Dick just laughs and goes to answer it.

It's food.

He pays the guy and sets the bags on the table in front of me, skirting around so he can get out plates and silverware. "You don't have food here?" I ask, accepting the tableware from him.

He laughs. "Almost none. I never have time to go shopping. And I can't cook anyway."

I fill my plate with the steaming dish, which I think is chicken Parmesan. My body will probably be delighted at the nutrition; my past four meals were McDonald's. We eat in silence for a minute, both inhaling our food, until I break it with, "Tell me about your family."

He smiles and sets down his fork. "I was adopted by Bruce when I was nine. I was the only one for a long time. I moved out when I was nineteen, and soon after Jason was adopted. He was… _is_" I notice the emphasis on is but don't question it. "A wildcard. He hates us, he loves us, he lives with us, he sabotages us, it all depends on his mood.

"Jason left a year or so later. Another year later, Tim came around. He wasn't adopted then, because his parents were still alive. He was interested in Bruce's work and stayed with him while his parents traveled. Not even a year later, his parents were attacked and his mother was killed and his father was put in a coma. So then Bruce adopted him. He's heir to the company, because he's annoyingly ingenious." His expression and tone of voice change slightly with the information, trying to brush past the awful parts with a lightened tone.

"Now Damian," he continues, "just kinda appeared. Bruce didn't know he existed. Damian was raised by his mother, but left her when he was ten. He's thirteen now and hates everyone except me. No one can hate me." He says it with an angelic smile. "There are a bunch of family feuds going on right now and I'm the only one not involved."

I gesture him to go on with my fork.

"Damian _hates_ Tim, and the feelings mutual. Jason and Bruce had a falling out, and they fight all the time. Tim and Jason fight sometimes but usually stay out of each other's way. Jason and Damian can either agree with each other or get in a screaming match. And those are just my brothers' feuds. I also have a couple sisters, though we're not as close. Stephanie lives there sometimes. She and Tim are… dating? It's complicated. Then there's Cassandra. She and Bruce are really close, but she's like a recluse Damian. She doesn't like anyone, but stays out of their way. Every once in a while she and Jason will try to kill each other. Barbara is over there a lot, though she's not in the family. She and I have dated. She's great." Something else flashes in his eyes… something like… pain? Maybe anger? Whatever. She's his ex, so I don't judge.

Another eating silence begins.

This time, Dick asks me a question. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

Ugh. I don't want to make up a cover story, and there's no way I'm going to tell him the truth.

"Tell me something you're willing to tell me." Hm. That was unexpected.

He eats while I think.

"I travel," I say at last. "You wondered why I was on the streets. It's because I travel all over. I'm too young to work, obviously, so any money I do…" I try not to smirk. "_Happen_ upon goes to traveling fees. Planes, boats, the works. I really like trains."

"Where have you traveled?"

"All over. First I went to Australia, and then up to New Zealand, because it was close. Then the New Guinea Islands, Japan, China... Mongolia, too. It's beautiful there. I traveled along Kazakhstan for a little while, sometimes zigzaging across the border into Russia, before I dipped down into all the countries beneath that. For the past year, I've been in Europe, because it's so… close together. I wanted to see everything!

"Then I came back to America. I've only been here for… A month? Maybe two? I lose track. I haven't been to South America or Africa yet, and I really want to see Canada."

"How do you choose where to go?" Admiration is glittering in his eyes, like he's impressed with my ability to get all over. To be honest, I'm kind of impressed with myself. Well, I'd be more impressed if I didn't cheat.

"At first it was convenience, just kind of moving wherever I could go, but now I have this list I'm trying to complete."

"What kind of list?"

I debate whether or not to tell him I'm just stalking heroes. I shrug, deciding it's not that big a deal. "I made a list of heroes. They're all over America, and cities with superheros have very interesting people."

His eyebrows raise before he laughs. "Catch the elusive Nightwing?"

I smirk. "Yeah, I saw him."

"And you're still here?"

I sigh, thinking of Jack. "For now. I have something I need to see through." I'm deflective on purpose, and luckily, though Dick clearly notes this, he doesn't push.

"Do you have a passport?" he asks instead.

"Yes… Though it's not with me right now. I don't carry my stuff on me in cities."

"Smart. Bludhaven has some phenomenal pickpockets."

Now done with our meal, Dick starts to box up the remainders and put them in the fridge. I, being the selfless person I am, help by putting the dishes in the sink and rinsing them with water.

"Would you like to stay here tonight?" Dick asks. "I have a guest room."

Should I push my luck? I haven't slept in a real bed since Atlanta, when I scored a criminal money cache and splurged on a hotel suite. I debate with myself over the character of the man in front of me one more time. Am I sure about him? I think so. And again, I always have powers up my sleeve. "Sure," I respond finally. Then I look over the living room again. "Do you have video games?"

Dick nods and opens a drawer by his TV, pulling out consoles and games. As he does this, he asks me to tell him about one of my adventures.

He hands me a controller as I launch into a very complicated tale of the time I accidentally joined an underground revolution and unwittingly played a part in the destruction of a totalitarian government.

* * *

**It starts to speed up in the next few chapters...**

**Have you guys seen season 3 of Young Justice? I can't wait for the fanfiction on that to come out!**

**~Disclaimer, Disclaimer~**


	7. Chapter 7

It's always a gamble on whether or not Dani will be at my apartment when I get back from work or "work". I'd showed her where the hidden key was for the door, so she can get in without me. Sometimes she's there all day and other times she doesn't show up for days. Luckily, that works to my advantage as she never notices how much I'm gone as she's always coming and going.

I continue to ask her about herself, and she continues to give me dashing tales of her adventures across the world… and nothing _actually_ about herself. All I know about her person is that she's American born and has been traveling for three years. Which is helpful, I guess...

She, on the contrary, knows plenty about me. I've told her all about my life growing up under Bruce Wayne (not his alter ego, though), my life in the circus, and my adventures as a police officer. I'd even managed to teach her some random knowledge; some law, carpentry (I don't even know how that started) and quantum mechanics (just don't ask because I have no idea).

That's another thing I know about her. She never went to school. She's plenty street smart and picks up everything I lay down, but beyond that, she wouldn't pass fourth grade. When she'd mentioned her lack of schooling, I wondered aloud how she could read and write, which I'd seen her do once or twice. "I learned," was her only reply.

In the mornings, I usually leave money out for her, but she never takes it. For a beggar, she's quite the chooser. I admire her for it, really. But it's still strange.

The thing she needs to see through, as far as I can tell, has not gone through yet. I still have no idea what it is, after so much time.

I even tried to follow her once as Nightwing, but she picked me out as soon as we cleared the buildings, taunted me, and disappeared.

After that, I'm more careful with Nightwing. I still don't know anything about her, so I'm not ready to be unmasked. I don't follow her anymore, even though she continues to clam up about it and I continue to be curious.

Despite our mutual secret-keeping, the time I spend with her is always the highlight of my day. She's witty and has a sharp tongue. Her realistic view on the world is refreshing. She's not as pessimistic as Bruce, Jason, Damian, etc. and every other hero I'm in contact with these days. But she's not stupidly optimistic either.

Her stories, I'll admit, are riveting and as far as I can tell, completely true. Still, I know nothing of her or her previous life. I know she likes comic books and video games, but not family or past…

It doesn't matter. She doesn't know much about me that's real, either. She's still welcome in my house. At least until she gives me a reason to the contrary.

One Saturday, almost six weeks after this arrangement had begun, I emerge from my room at ten a.m. to find Dani reading my copy of _Robin Hood_ on the couch. She wasn't often here in the morning hours; preferring instead to be here in the evening or the dead of night. It surprised me to find her here, as no closing door or key in the lock had woken me.

I brush it off, knowing how dead to the world I was after last night. Besides, Dani is a genius of stealth. I'd like to pit her against Damian and see who'd win.

She greets me and puts down the book, thoughtfully marking her place with the accompanying bookmark instead of upending it on the table (even though the bookmark was marking my spot in the novel. At least she's trying).

I gesture with my cereal box, but she declines with a shake of her head. "You look horrible," she comments in response.

"Good morning, Dani."

I pour myself some cereal and sit at the table. She's right, though. I had a rough night. Very stressful and long. The police showed up prematurely to a slash-and-burn I was doing and Brown got shot in the leg. Luckily, today's my day off, finally. I've needed one for a while now.

"Why are you here this early?" I ask while she grabs orange juice from the fridge and pours two cups.

She hands me a glass. "I had something to do last night. I came in pretty late." After sipping some juice, she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Plus, you mentioned you had the day off."

I grin around my spoon. "And you want to spend some time with me?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't say it like that, or it's weird."

"Okay, so what do you want to do? The pier…" I stop, frowning. "There really aren't many kid-appropriate attractions in Bludhaven."

"What do you mean?" Dani drawls sarcastically, tilting her chair back precariously. "Casinos, bars, drug deals… Perfect _teenage_ activities."

I'd been running a list through my head as she spoke, and pause on the perfect idea. "Let's go to the gym," I suggest, backing up my chair.

"The gym?" she deadpans.

I dump my bowl in the sink and walk to my room. Dani follows, confused. After digging in my closet, I come up with Dami's workout clothes. He's thirteen and pretty small, but he's around Dani's height. I grab my own and come out of the closet.

"I don't want to work out," Dani whines. I toss the clothes at her. She grimaces at them. "Are these your angsty brother's?"

"Yeah."

She sniffs them before holding them out at arm's length. "They smell like a father's disapproval."

"They _smell_ like detergent," I stress. "Now get dressed. This is going to be fun, I promise."

She looks doubtful. As she leaves my room, I hear her mutter, "I hope somebody robs a convenience store…"

* * *

After bullying Dani into a long stretch warmup, where I find she is decently flexible, I help her stand and gesture out to the gym. It's a different kind of gym; instead of machines, there are mats, bars and a tightrope/trapeze stretched up above us.

"What do you want to do first?"

She looks up at the trapeze doubtfully. "I feel like any answer will lead to death."

"I grew up in the circus," I explain, "We won't die on any of this equipment."

"_You_ grew up in the circus…" Still, she walks over to the ladder leading up to the tightrope. As she starts her climb, I grab a long pole from a bundle standing against the wall. I clip on a hook to a small hole in the pole before climbing up after her.

Surprisingly, the gym is quiet and empty. Usually there are at least a couple other people here, but the day is rainy and miserable, so I guess they stayed home. It's good though; we have the whole place to ourselves.

When I get up there, I start wheeling up the pole from the pulley I'd connected it to, refusing to let Dani on the tightrope without it.

"Why?" she whines. "There's a net."

"Falling in the net isn't as fun as you'd think. It's rough and a ways down. This will help keep your balance. It keeps you centered. Okay, hold your hands like this and bend your knees. Turn your feet… No, more like this… Great. That looks fine. Now, the line is taunt, and it'll be bouncier than you think. Walk on your arches in small steps. Don't try to bring one foot up until the line settles."

She nods, hearing my instructions. Her face pulled into a determined mask, she places her first foot on the line. It wobbles, but only for a moment. The foot on the line adjusts and she tests adding more of her weight.

I'm surprised by her restraint. Knowing her, even as sparsely as I do, my impression would be that she would jump right in and start walking across the rope.

I spoke too soon.

As soon as she placed the next foot on the line and swayed as the line bounced, she started walking continuously, gripping the bar as it swayed, trying to keep her balance.

For a moment, I thought she might fall almost immediately, but she found the right rhythm by the time she reached the middle and settled in. Her body moved away from the foot taking the step forward, compensating to keep her balance.

It's not graceful, but she doesn't fall. When she reaches the other side, she tilts dangerously as she tries to land her foot on the platform. One of her hands leaves the pole to catch herself, but then her whole body sways towards the tilting pole. I'm sure she'll fall, but she drops the pole and forces her body forward, bracing her hand on the platform before she can leave the line.

Turning her body, which is suspended in the air between her stationary hand and the foot she still has pushing against the cable, she's able to get herself seated on the platform. Her arms fold and she grins at me from across the space.

I give a huge thumbs up and make my own way across the tightrope, keeping on the balls on my feet and hardly pausing to compensate for the bounce of the cable.

I'm there in a third the time it took Dani, and she gives me a heavy frown. "Show-off," she complains. She eyes the tightrope again. "Do your circus tricks."

"You want me to show-off?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

I shrug and step back on the line. I walk out to the middle and glance back at Dani, whose eyes are on my feet. Running through the list of tricks in my repertoire, I settle on a couple simple acrobatics that are made that much more difficult by the surface I'm performing it on.

On a handstand, I walk forward a bit before lowering my body until my feet are back on the line in front of me. With a push, I end up back on my feet. Next, I bend my knees and push off of the rope, twisting backwards so I can land on my hands again. Only pausing to feel the line bend down again, I use the bounce of the line to flip again onto my feet, and then onto my hands again, and landing definitely on my feet.

Though the line is wild, I take a bow. Dani claps a couple times before leaning back, expectant for more. I grin and show off for a little while longer before Dani decides to go back to the ground. I don't notice until she'd gotten halfway down, as she gave no prior indication of her decision and she's fast at climbing.

I follow her down. She goes over to the parallel bars and asks me to teach her on those, which I do. She then asks me to show her my tricks while she sits and watches.

Then she wanders off again.

This pattern repeats itself until Dani explores the entire gym. I'd only taught her maybe a fourth the time; Dani always wanted to see me do it all instead. When I finished on the trapeze, Dani and I climbed down together.

"Are you done?" she asks me with a tilted smile.

"What do you mean? You're the one who wanted to do something."

She shrugs, and we decide to leave.

"Did you like it, though?" I ask as we start walking down the sidewalk away from the gym.

She squints up at the sky like she's trying to determine whether it will rain or not. The clouds are heavy and almost black-an obvious sign that it'll end up pouring soon- but she continues to scrutinize. "It was alright," she answers finally, and I take it to mean she enjoyed it.

"Do you want to go get dinner?"

"Always."

On our way back, we stop and order two pizzas. Dani insists she can eat an entire one by herself, and I know I can. When they're done making them, we take our pizzas and head back to my apartment. Somehow along the way we'd started arguing about the tension in Serbia and how likely it was to erupt into a war. It's one of my favorite parts of hanging out with Dani. We'll start talking about the weather and end up on foreign politics. She might not have traditional schooling, but she has the geography and history knowledge of a professor.

We enter my apartment and spend the evening chilling. Before I met Dani, I didn't even know _how _to chill. My idea of Netflix was roping Arsenal and Damian into taking care of crime in Bludhaven for the night while I watched from the sidelines and ate popcorn. But Dani lived her whole life doing whatever she felt like, whenever she wanted, and I've gotta say: it's infectious.

As we finished our eighth round of Super Smash Bros, I notice that this was the longest I'd ever idled without getting some kind of call that's pulled me into action. Crap. I jinxed it. Not even a full minute after I think that, there's a knock at the door.

I sigh, pausing the game and getting off the couch. The only people privy to my residence are superheros and a couple unfortunate villains. Come to think of it, Dani is the only one I know without a dual identity.

_Please don't be in uniform, please don't be in uniform…_

I look through the peephole.

Thank Batman. It's Damian, in a pressed shirt and slacks instead of his assassin get up. I immediately guess that he'd initially snuck through my window, heard Dani, and decided to come through the front door. Turning the lock, I open the door wide.

"Hey, Damian," I greet, and I hear Dani slide off the couch. Damian stalks inside with a nasty frown, glaring at me before settling it on Dani.

In response, she folds her arms, her friendly smile slipping into a scowl.

"Oooookay." I look between the two and step between them. "Damian, this is Dani. Dani, Damian."

"You're like, twelve," Dani observes sarcastically. "How'd you get here from Gotham on your own?"

"Thirteen. And Alfred drove me," he answers shortly. "You can leave now, street girl."

"Damian, don't talk to her like that," I scold, giving her a shrug over his head. She waves it off dismissively. "What did you need?"

"_You_ are needed in Gotham. It is urgent."

Dani's frown deepens.

"Are you going to tell me why?"

"Not with her here," Damian retorts stubbornly, folding his arms.

I sigh. "Damian…"

Dani rolls her eyes. "No, it's fine, I'll go."

"Okay. I'll leave the apartment key where it is and a note telling you when I'll get back."

Damian's scowl deepens. "You won't be coming back. You're needed in Gotham permanently." For the first time, his mask cracks and he suddenly looks like a scared little kid. That scares _me._ "Father has died, and you need to take his place."

Distantly through my shock at Damian's revelation, I hear Dani give an uncomfortable cough. "Yeah… I'm gonna go."

* * *

**In response to one of the comments I saw: Dani's story is just a story. Technically, it did happen, but it's not going to be a plot point or anything. It's just a development that gives you guys some idea of the adventures she's been having. Dani's character is impulsive, adventurous and heroic in nature, so it made sense to me that she'd get involved with the wars happening in the Middle East. As for Young Justice... it isn't an installment in this fanfic. All the characters will likely show up, but the series doesn't have Batman's "death", and that's where I'm following. YJ is more for my other fic I'll probably end up doing (the one with Sam).**

**Sorry for the long A/N. One more thing, though: if you guys want anything to happen in this series, I can probably fit it in. it's very fluid right now, with only an outline of the plot. Let me know your thoughts!**

**~Disclaimer, Disclaimer~**


	8. Chapter 8

"I thought you said we didn't qualify?" Jo phrases, somewhere between a question and an exclamation. She and her husband, Graham, are clasping hands, looking at me with barely controlled excitement.

"The selection process is incredibly selective. It is effective in weeding out a lot of bad people, but sometimes it ends up excluding the wonderful ones too. I managed to pull some strings, though, and yes. You qualify."

Their eyes sparkle with tears as they hug each other. Jo and Graham used to be addicts (drugs and alcohol, respectively), but had been sober almost ten years. They had no danger of relapsing, but the agency was taking no chances. I could see their genuine want for a child, though, and decided to help them out. There are so few truly _good_ people in this world, and here were two of them, even if they had made mistakes.

So that led me to overshadowing this uptight, incredibly rude lady named Ms. Bradshaw. After several calls in her body, I'd opened up a slot for the couple and lined up a possible adoption. I'd cleared all the paperwork (I hope), legally signing in Ms. Bradshaw's hand that Josephine Anderson and Graham Martinez were in no danger of relapsing to past mistakes and they were not capable of any harm to a potential child.

"Normally, this is the time I make a speech about how there's a waiting list and that it could be years before anyone has a child for you… But…" I smile, passing over a file. "We have parents in our system who we try to match with a child. This child I've been working to match with a parent."

They open the file as if unearthing a pregnancy test.

"Jack has been in and out of foster homes for months. He's only a baby, so I've been keeping a close eye on him and his potential parents. As they were _all_" I think back to the four foster homes I'd liberated the child from. Two drug dealers, one drug addict (active), and a couple that barely noticed he was there at all. "Unsuitable, he's been bouncing around. He has no claimed parents and DNA testing has proven ineffectual in locating either."

"He's beautiful," Jo utters, awe-struck as she handles the accompanying picture. "Can we really be his parents? When can we meet him?"

"He's in the nursery. Why don't we go now?"

After leading the blissful couple to the nursery, I carefully pick up the sleeping three-month old from a crib and lay him in Jo's arms. A look of intense joy grabs both parents as they coo down at the waking child.

I make eye contact with Graham. "There's just some paperwork to be done. Might I suggest: after he's yours, I highly suggest you relocate to a more… family friendly city?"

He nods vigorously.

* * *

I walk the tops of Bludhaven's buildings alone, my hands as deep in my pockets as I am in thought. Unconsciously, I find myself gravitating towards Dick's apartment, though I force myself not to go inside.

I hadn't gone back to his place since he'd gotten the declaration from his brother that his dad was dead. Not that I'm heartless; I was going to, but when I saw him moving out three days later, I couldn't do more than watch invisibly.

He actually left. For good.

This was the first time I'd felt the pain of loss on a personal level. Yes, I'd only known him a couple months and he wasn't really gone. But he was the only one I'd ever befriended. No, that's not right. I've made friends across the world. He's the only one I've made an attachment with. I would've stayed here, with him. Guess that's not an option anymore.

I sit on the edge of the building across from his former home, one knee drawn up to my chest, where I rest my chin. Well, I'm leaving town, now that Jack's adopted and Dick's gone. Luckily, I hadn't gotten drawn into a cult, so that makes leaving easier as well.

Lance (the leader of the child underground whatever) had not attempted to assimilate me, though he didn't leave me alone or let me throw him off the pier, though I tried. We were acquaintances of a sort. Whatever you call strangers who banter back and forth and go on the occasional adventure. I have made a lot of those in my travels.

This morning, I'd said goodbye to him, and in response he'd given me the customary, "If you find yourself in Bludhaven…"

"This is ridiculous," I mutter to myself. "Get up, Dani, and get going."

But I don't move, staring at the building full of blind people.

"You're leaving anyway, so might as well just check," I finally assuage myself, and stand up. I hop down from the roof onto the fire escape, making my way down to the sidewalk below.

The code for Dick's apartment is still correct, and the lobby doors let me inside. In the elevator, I get an overwhelming feeling of loneliness as soon as the doors close. Wow, this is annoying. I was always alone before, and even when I was hanging out with Dick we only saw each other every other day or so.

Still, the feeling's there, which annoys the crap out of me.

I use the key that's still under the carpet to open the door. Disappointment crashes over me as I find the visible rooms completely empty. Ugh, if this was going to make me feel worse, why'd I come in the first place?

I just can't believe he left with no word to me. He moved his entire life without me. Yeah, I know I wasn't that big a part of it, but it still stings. Dejected, I enter the apartment, figuring I might as well take a shower if he hasn't cancelled the plumbing yet.

Something catches my eye before I reach the bathroom, though. There's a note stuck to the fridge's door. Now excited, I skirt the counter and yank the paper from under the magnet.

_Dani,_ it reads:

_First of all, I didn't want to leave, especially without you, but I couldn't find you. Anywhere. I even put out a BOLO with the force. Hence the note on the fridge. Secondly, I want to apologize for the abruptness. Even though I want to stay longer, Bruce left an incredible amount of work to be done, and I have to get to Gotham ASAP. I know you still have work here, whatever it is, but I'm hoping that, once it's done, you'll come cross Batman off your superhero list._

_~Dick Grayson_

_P.S. I know you think staying in one place is boring, but I can promise you won't be with my family in Gotham._

I forgot I told him about the list. Frowning, I turn the paper over, though I don't expect there to be any more. Was that an invitation to live with him?

Obviously.

But it still seems… Too blunt? I don't know. It's so unexpected. I'm not going to do that. At least not yet. Maybe in a few months, when I've seen Superman and Black Lightning.

Tucking the note in my back pocket, I take advantage of the bathroom before heading out to gather my bag (which is phased in front of the city sign) and head to the train station. Though I'd spent the day surrounded by people, I barely noticed them until the train station. It's not a rush, but the platform is still crammed full, and I find it difficult to get to a place where I can sit down.

I crush my backpack close to my chest, knowing the high likelihood of pickpockets here, and shuffle through the people to the nearest bench.

Ignoring the person next to me, I take off my shoe and withdraw two twenties. I click my tongue at the dwindling amount. I need to make time to find another thug to rob blind.

At the ticket station, I slide the money through the slot. "One to Metropolis, please," I request, though it kills me to say so.

The lady types for a moment. "That'll be $14.86." I hand over a ten and a five, telling her to keep the coins. They are so annoying to keep in my shoe. "Train leaves soon, so I'd head inside."

Ducking my head in a nod, I walk briskly through the crowd towards my train. It's sitting on its tracks, vibrating slightly with the idling engine. Forking over my ticket, I step inside the graffiti-covered train and head to an empty window seat.

Wedging my knees into the chair in front of me, I dig around my bag for the fold of papers I use for my list. It's written on cheap lined paper, the scraggly edge still attached. Smoothing them out on my legs, I use a pencil to scratch out #87-Nightwing.

The train rumbles as it starts preparing for departure. Fingering the names of the Gotham heroes, I watch as Bludhaven starts moving away, desperately wishing my destination were another.

* * *

**Hello again! This is kind of a sucky chapter, but I needed Dani's POV to leave Bludhaven and also wrap up the loose end that is Jack (he was important for character development... I swear he wasn't some random throw-in). I will most likely add another chapter within the next day or so. I have a lot of backups and I'm only waiting to make sure the chapters are received well before I follow through with the next.**

**Next, in response to my last few comments:**

**The mystery surrounding Batman and his death are elaborated in the next chapter and so on. With so many comments, I had to add much more into this plot than I would've originally, and it is sooo much better now. Thank you for those! **

**Also, the most previous comment was **_greatly_** appreciated. I love that kind of feedback and would love any more offered in the future. I made a couple changes to pre-existing chapters and to what's happening further on, but I'll clear up some things here: their human forms don't have any ghostly strength, stamina, agility, etc. But Dani has built up her own repertoire of skills with her travels. The only ghost power she passively carries is her resistance to injury: Danny in the show was seen falling several stories, being thrown against walls and being crushed in his human form with little to no lasting effects. Sorry, this was long. **

**~Disclaimer, Disclaimer~**


	9. Chapter 9

"Are you still working on that?"

Damian snatches the contracts out from under my pen. I set it down with a sigh, resting my head on my palm as he inspects the object of my frustration.

"These are simply _figures_, Grayson."

I hear the underlying insult. "My mind doesn't work that way," I defend half-heartedly. Damian is a mastermind of insults, but I know when they're empty comments and I'm honestly too exhausted to care. "I'm good at math, I'm good at people, I'm good with computers. But business just doesn't make any sense."

"Give it to Drake, then." He tosses the papers back on the desk in disarray. I was half hoping he'd do it for me. "Did he not inherit father's company?"

"He did," I allow, careful not to rile him up again. Even though he refuses to admit it, he loved Bruce. His mood has been absolute trash for the past two weeks. _Especially_ since the DNA results came back on the charred body Superman had found in the explosion's wreckage. 99.97%. For all intents and purposes, a perfect match. "But he left this morning."

"Because he has the ridiculous notion that Father is still alive and we're not clinically insane or idiotic enough to believe so as well?" His fist clenches and unclenches in his folded arms, betraying his frustration and loss.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to placate him without taking his side. "Something like that…"

He scoffs, arms now falling to his sides. "Very well, that makes this easier." He folds his arms again but this time behind his back, something I've observed to be his stance when addressing a matter that he deems very important.

This should be good.

"As you are now Batman, it only makes sense for me to take up the mask of Robin."

I don't hesitate. "Okay."

He looks taken aback. "R-really?"

I've never known him to stutter.

He composes himself. "I… Father always said I would never be able to."

"Yeah, well, you almost killed the current Robin at the time. That was a long time ago. I believe you've evolved, or whatever. Besides, I didn't want to train anyone." I refrain from mentioning I don't even want to _be_ Batman. He already knows. Even Bruce knew, as he'd specifically told me not to take up the cowl if he were to die.

I catch a glimpse of one of Damian's rare half-smiles. "I daresay I will surpass your skill at my age."

"At _my_ age, I'd only been doing this a year. You've been doing this since you could walk."

"Before that."

"How-"

"You don't need _legs_ to wield a dagger, Grayson."

I nod, as if taking it into serious consideration. "I see." As usual, I can't tell if he's joking or stating a fact he regards obvious. Either way, it was funny.

Damian nods to me and leaves the study. I probably should get back to work, but Damian's distraction was enough to make that impossible. Sighing at the paperwork, I turn around in my chair so I don't have to look at it.

Bruce's study is dark and modern; its design is the closest his civilian and vigilante life come to each other. Both of which, unfortunately, he left to me. Being Batman is something I can do. It is simply a role I'd practically been raised to be. But the finances, the publicity? I don't understand how it works.

Right now, we have a Bruce Wayne stand in, but we all know he won't last forever. Eventually he'll grow tired of the parties, girls and endless money and leave us to fend for ourselves. Tim was taking care of Wayne Enterprises, but now he's off trying to prove Bruce is still alive. And I still have to deal with the Justice League.

Bruce made it clear he didn't want the world to know Batman is dead. That means I have to essentially run the League, even though I have little experience with their team as a whole. Superman and Wonder Woman are doing it for now, but for every public appearance, I'm Batman.

I _hate_ this. It can't go on forever, and as soon as the world knows, there will be chaos. Batman is the embodiment of fear! I'm quips and acrobatic stunts. How can I fool all his enemies? How will I fool the _Joker_? He'll know in two seconds flat I'm not Bruce. This is exactly why I didn't want to do this, why _Bruce_ didn't want me to do this.

I tug my hair, exhausted and frustrated. Everything is so complicated right now…

Bruce only released me from the responsibility because he knows me. _Knew_ me, I guess I should say. It was his way of validating my decision to become Nightwing. He never told me he forgave me for leaving. I left because I didn't want to become Batman… And now I know he accepted that. Now I know, and now none of it matters.

When I finally open my eyes, I catch sight of a small indent on the floorboards. Curious, I slide off my chair and bend down next to it. It's tiny; no bigger than my pinky nail. I'd never been in Bruce's seat before, which is the optimal place to spot it. I run my finger over it, wondering why it stuck out to me in the first place.

With a frown, I return to the desk and dig out Bruce's wax. Yes, he has _wax_. For _family seals_. I break off a small piece and place it on the heating plate for a few moments. Satisfied that it's now soft, I return to the indent and press the wax inside.

It hardens within seconds, and I gently ease it out, careful not to break it. Under the lamplight, I tilt it until I see exactly what I thought I'd seen when I first saw the indent.

It's a tiny bat.

The intercom buzzes, so I mash the wax into a ball and put it back in one of the drawers, erasing my discovery. "Yeah?" I ask through the speaker.

"Would you be so kind as to join me in the foyer, Master Dick?"

"Sure, Alfred. I'm on my way."

This doesn't make any sense. Bruce is hardly the type to leave potential identifiers in the mansion. If it was a coincidence, it seems unlikely that he wouldn't investigate and dispose of the little mark. His paranoia knows no bounds.

On my way to the foyer, I pause as I pass over the rugs. What if there are more markers? I haven't seen any, but the first was so small.

I silently apologize to Alfred as I mentally plan to shred the carpets and look underneath. Just as I think that, I carefully amend the idea. I'm starting to get as paranoid as Bruce.

Still lost in thought, I enter the foyer.

"Hey," Dani says.

For a second, my head struggles to pull itself from the train of thought it was following. "Dani!" I greet when I'd caught up with myself, feeling my scowl pull into a smile.

She's in the same outfit I'd last seen her in; a blue sweatshirt and a red beanie. I see she'd recently showered, though her hands and shoes are as dirty as ever.

"I use my hands ten times more than I wash them, and I can only wash them so many times," she'd explained once.

I see Alfred eyeing them warily, probably mentally cleaning up the messes she'll make.

"I didn't think you'd come," I continue, smiling widely.

She shrugs with an indifferent look. "I was mad you didn't say goodbye." I give her a second to elaborate why she took two weeks, but she doesn't.

"Sorry."

She nods, ignoring my sarcasm. "Finding this place was harder than it looked. You'd think a giant mansion would make it easy, but there are a _lot_ of mansions."

"Gotham's elite," I explain distastefully, but don't stop on the topic. "Are you staying long?"

"As long as you want me to."

She says it offhandedly, but I see the insecurity behind her words. It's so out of character I almost tease her, but think better of it. It's best to treat unusual behavior as you normally would.

"In that case, we might want to set up a room for you." I say the words to her, but they're directed at Alfred.

He nods his assent stiffly, though not with disapproval. "I'll make up one of the spare bedrooms."

"Thanks, Alfred." He takes his leave after giving us a slight bow, wincing slightly at the movement. He'd taken quite the beating a while before Bruce died, though he refused to take it easy once he was released from bed rest. I take a moment to worry over him before redirecting my attention to the girl in front of me.

When he's gone, Dani points in his general direction. "You have a butler?"

"He raised Bruce. He's more family than anything."

"But you treat him as a butler."

I wave it off. "Alfred does what he wants. Did you see me ordering him around?"

She lets it go, so I take the opportunity to offer a tour. At her nod, I lead her out into the hallway and start walking. "When you mentioned three brothers and two sisters, I figured the place would be louder," she observes as we pass the main hall.

"It was earlier," I recall, thinking of Tim's tantrum. "But now it's pretty empty. Everyone but Damian, Alfred and I are somewhere else."

She suddenly looks uncomfortable, as if she just remembered Bruce wasn't here either. "Sorry about your dad."

"It's okay," I assure her. "I mean, it's not, but… I'll be okay."

"When's the funeral?" she asks, saying the words like they're unfamiliar.

"Already had it," I lie. Well, it's not exactly a lie. We incinerated Batman's body, though Bruce Wayne, in the public's eyes, was still alive and well.

"Sorry I missed _that._ It sounded like a blast." She grins and I return it.

"What was your work? Now that it's done." She looks at me with a question in her eyes. "I'm guessing, since you're here and all."

Recognition flickers in her eyes and she nods, explaining, "Remember the baby?"

It takes me a second. "Jack?" I'd done a follow up a couple weeks later. He was in a foster home. I say as much, and she shakes her head.

"He was, but I wanted to make sure he got adopted. He just did, a few days ago. Jo and Graham." A bright smile passes over her face. "They're adorable."

My admiration of her grows. "That was noble."

"I have my moments," she responds vaguely, her eyes dimming ever so slightly. We're in the main dining room now, which has a grand chandelier made of sparkling crystals. Her eyes sparkle when she sees it, drawing her out of the slight reverie she'd fallen into. "Is that off-limits?"

I glance at her from the corner of my eye. "Are you asking if you can climb it?"

"It's so sparkly," she breathes.

"How will you get up there?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

I chuckle, leaning back to study the chandelier as if considering it. "I've been up there."

"Really?!"

"When I was younger. Alfred was maaaaaaddd…"

"Did it break?"

"Oh, no. Bruce knew he was adopting a circus kid."

"How did you get up there?" I laugh, shaking my head. She frowns at my reaction and scrutinizes the room. "The air ducts? How big are the air ducts?"

Well, after that, one thing led to another. We started arguing about the air ducts, then about ladders, then climbing the wall. Dani insisted Alfred has a way up to clean it (she's not wrong) and I insist that's the easy way out. Eventually, that led to Dani proving she could get up there by climbing up the bookshelves.

After she gets up, she realizes it's too far away to jump. She looks around her head until finding the air vent. It was how I got to the chandelier myself. Entertained, I watch her wiggle inside the ducts and mentally track her path through the hidden ducts.

Faster than I expected, the grate covering the vent just to the right of the chandelier is pushed open. Feet first, Dani wiggles out the hole and carefully finds ground on one of the main branches of the fixture. It pitches when she lets go of the vent, but before she can lose balance, her hands grip the main part of the chandelier.

I'm not worried about the fixture falling; it fell through when Tim and Damian decided to have a to-the-death spar on it. The new design can support up to three-hundred extra pounds on even the smallest branch.

"Bravo!" I call up to her.

"There should be a house up here," she replies, clambering carefully around the fixture. "Like a tree house. With a hammock." The crystals rattle as she straddles the center and leans back against one of the branches.

"I'll submit your suggestion to Alfred."

"Does that means it's not happening?"

I grin at her plaintive tone. "I don't think the chandelier's _that_ big."

"How big does it have to be?"

"Miss Dani," Alfred scolds, suddenly appearing in the doorway, "do come down from the chandelier." He sends a glare at me, interrupting my calculations, and I return it with an impish smile. Dani hooks her knees on part of the structure and hangs down, giving Alfred a wave.

"Do you think if the chandelier were big enough there could be a tree house in it?"

I stifle a laugh.

Alfred regards her sternly. "I believe tree houses belong in trees, miss. And if I'm not mistaken, they can also be utilized for _climbing_."

She smirks at his sarcasm and grabs either side of her legs so she can transfer herself into an upright position. Dangling by her hands, she looks down at me, ten or so feet below, then at the air vent. "Catch," she orders, and lets go. Immediately, I hold out my hands and grasp her around the waist as she drops.

"Thanks."

I set her down. "No problem."

Alfred rolls his eyes, probably imagining Dani becoming the sixth Robin. Or seventh? There have been so many, I lose count. "Dinner is ready, Master Dick. How many places shall I set?"

"Four," I reply, looking at Dani briefly to see her nod. "That is, if you're joining us and if Damian decides to bless us with his presence."

Alfred frowns. "And Master Tim?"

I shake my head. "He's taking a leave."

He nods once, forcing impassiveness. It's been so hard on him, since Bruce died. He needs all the sons he can get right now, and we had already lost Jason. Hopefully Dani can lighten the mood of this place. It was always gloomy before, but now it's downright depressing. It feels wrong, without Bruce.

"Let's go meet Damian," I suggest, more for a change in subject than actually wanting to initiate an introduction.

Dani smirks. "Ooh, won't this be fun?"

"It will be for me," Alfred interjects, calmly adjusting his cuffs as he walks out of the dining room.

* * *

**There you go! Yet another chapter, as promised. This one still has too much of a filler taste for me, but I promise the next few chapters really start picking up.**


	10. Chapter 10

"You brought the streets of Bludhaven to Gotham," Damian notes as way of greeting. He looks me up and down before letting out a scoff. "Whatever makes you feel at home, Grayson."

I give him the nicest smile I own. "Hello to you, too."

Dick glares at Damian from across the table. I watch as they lock stares and seem to have a silent conversation between each other. Eventually, Damian rolls his eyes and breaks the staring contest.

"I meant hello," he corrects, though it's not even halfway convincing. Still, Dick accepts it and starts cutting into the plate in front of him. I do the same, not bothering to make small talk with Damian. Unfortunately, he doesn't accept this. "And how long will she be staying?"

Even though the question is directed at Dick, it's clear the hostility is meant for me. Wonderful. Luckily, I don't take offense easy.

Dick glances at me. "As long as she likes."

I fight the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Reluctantly, Damian nods and turns to his plate. As nasty as he is, it's clear he respects Dick.

The moment of relief is over before I get two more bites in my mouth.

"There are rules while you are here," Damian announces. As I turn my attention back to him, I see Dick rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "My room is off-limits. So are all of Father's. You can do whatever you like to Drake and Todd's room." Dick snorts. "Do not touch anything expensive." I risk a glance up at the chandelier and Dick stifles a laugh. Damian's glare intensifies until he gets our attention again. "And do not approach any of my pets. They will likely kill you."

What, does he have a lion? I wouldn't be surprised. "Which rooms are which?"

"If you enter the room and I do not kill you, you're fine." He folds his arms.

Alfred coughs politely. Or maybe laughs. I can't tell; the butler is an absolute sass master. "Master Damian, that is no way to treat a guest."

"No, it's fine," I say, looking over at Damian with a smile. "Now we're even. See, I don't know how to treat a host, so I'm going to break all those rules."

Damian narrows his eyes and we start a staring contest. Dick looks between us and laughs. "This _is_ fun!"

"This is _not_," Damian huffs, turning his glare on his brother. Unperturbed, I take another bite of chicken. "You bring someone new in before Father's even been dead three weeks!"

"I believe Master Bruce would have proud," Alfred puts in. "It is, in truth, the only way to properly honor him."

Dick blinks at Alfred's comment before he laughs hysterically, leaning his forehead into his palm with his shoulders heaving. I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at his shaking form and look up to find Damian doing the same.

"I wonder what your midlife crisis will be." With that random comment, I go back to eating.

To my surprise, Damian picks up the topic. "I thought you were it."

I scrutinize his face but find none of the condescension from before. I take that to mean he's kidding, in his own way. "I'm his early twenties crisis. What will it be when he's going bald and has lost the ability to do a backbend?"

Damian thinks about it. "Ringmaster of the circus," he concludes.

"Can ringmasters be bald?"

"I'm not going bald," Dick protests, though the laughter is still twinkling in his eyes.

"Yet," Damian and I warn at the same time. A humored smile spreads across my face and I see the faintest ghost of one on Damian's. Once he notices me, his expression curls back into its normal distaste.

The meal morphs back into normal conversation, as Dick highlights a brief outline of my life and Damian interrogates every detail. I keep my answers short, wary of adding anything unnecessary in case Damian decides to hone in on it. The brief truce we had was completely forgotten as we began arguing about how much I should tell him.

Dick wears a content smile as he watches our back-and-forth, showing off his exhausted eyes. I hadn't noticed how worn he looked-he probably did that on purpose- and feel a wave of sympathy. His _dad_ died. Clockwork knows how wrecked I would be if Danny died.

Still, even though I feel the sympathy, I don't express it. Bruce Wayne has plenty of contacts that are probably flooding this place with gifts. Dick doesn't need my two cents.

When dinner's through, Alfred clears the table, ignoring my attempts to help.

Dick addresses me, "I have a couple things to take care of before the night is through. Alfred can take you up to a bedroom and we'll meet up tomorrow at breakfast, is that all right?"

"It's only eight," I note, though it's more of a question than a complaint.

"You can go wherever," Dick replies, waving his hand around. "This place has plenty of cool stuff; mostly from when I stayed here. You have free reign. Just please don't leave without telling anyone. Gotham is dangerous and I'd rather know where you are."

I roll my eyes. "And Bludhaven was… what? A library?"

Dick smirks. "Call it a courtesy. You get to stay here and in return, you won't get yourself killed."

He says it jokingly, but I recognize the undertone of worry. While my first instinct is to completely disregard the request, I try to see it as a reasonable compromise. It is, after all. "Fine, whatever."

"Grayson," an impatient Damian snaps. "Let's get going."

I narrow my eyes at the thirteen year-old. "Why are you going?"

"Grayson is useless in Father's business. Though _how_ remains unclear, as business is the easiest and most _straightforward_ concept-"

"Anyway! The point is, he gets it, I don't, and that's that." He all but shoves Damian out the door. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll be here."

* * *

**Wow I've been writing like crazy! I have so many chapters done and I just want to update them all! Oh, and in response to a couple comments, as per usual: Yeaaah so the story line I chose for this fic is awesome, but yes, you will notice many mistakes in regards to my following its plot. I read that series and was confused _the entire time_. If any of you guys have read it, you'll back me up here. I read a lot of outlines on the internet for the series, trying to track down what exactly was happening, but they were almost as confusing. (There's a dude who Batman gives money to and he ODs and Bruce wanders around with the dude without his memory only to find the guy had died a day before? What?) **

**Sorry. Off track. To the review where he was buried with his parents: ugh, I wish I'd known earlier, though, because if I add it in now I'll have to have a whole side plot going on that I didn't account for. So he'll stay incinerated for simplicity's sake. **


	11. Chapter 11

"And how long do you expect to keep your dual identity from her?" Damian demands of me as I swab the floor in front of me with an adhesive. "You don't plan on her joining us, do you?"

"You've been Robin all of two minutes and already can't let it go," I tease. I drop the adhesive into a bag and place it back in Bruce's belt. I mean my. My belt. "Did you check the upper walls?"

"Of course I did. No sign of adhesives." Though I want to trust his judgement, he _has _only been Robin for two minutes. I give the wall a once over and point out the steam marks he'd missed, which he waves off. "As if she could be a better Robin than I. I'm not threatened."

"Then stop acting like it. I have no intention of bringing her into this." I swab the steam marks before giving the room one more thorough once-over.

"She'll figure it out," he argues.

"She stayed with me for a month and a half and didn't find out that I was Nightwing. Let's go." He follows me out the window, and for a few blissful moments, there's only the sound of the wind rushing around me.

Then we land on a roof, and his mouth immediately opens again. "She's not an idiot, _Batman_." I hear the underlying contempt at the title. "Don't you think she'll notice Father's replacement? How will you explain that?"

"I don't know."

"What about her? What do you know about her? Can we actually trust her?" His questions start coming out faster.

"Look, _Robin_," I intervene before he can really get going. "I don't know how I'll handle all that. All I know is she's been living with me for almost two months and I love this kid. She'll understand when she finds out. I know she hides a lot but I trust her anyway."

"That makes you a fool."

I glare at him through Bruce's intimidating mask. "We had different ways of trusting people, but that doesn't make me stupid." I turn away from Damian. "And there's only one person who's ever betrayed my trust."

Damian catches my meaning, though I wished we didn't have to go here. "Father?"

Rather than answer, I swing up my grappling hook and leap from the building. We'd been here too long anyway. He follows but doesn't drop the topic. As soon as we land again, he starts back up. "You didn't trust him?"

"With my life, sure," I respond impassively, scanning the area with binoculars to avoid looking at him. "With my ideals, no. He kept things from me, didn't trust me with the basics." I sigh at my caustic tone. "It doesn't matter anymore."

We leap buildings again.

"But what of this girl? You trust her with your life and your… ideals?" He says the word experimentally, like he isn't quite sure how he should treat it. I know he's always trying to prove himself, especially to Bruce. But with me… he's not. He's trying to… accommodate me, almost. Whatever his intentions, I appreciate the effort.

"Yeah," I respond.

"How?" The tone of his voice has changed; less demanding, more bewildered.

"The League taught you that trust meant fear, respect and whole-hearted devotion. But that's servitude. Trust is more… Putting faith in someone to have your back, keep your secrets. But just like you can trust them to keep your secrets, you can also trust them to keep their own. I know she's hiding her past from me, but there's no issue of trust here. I trust her, and she trusts me.

"So why haven't I told her about my night life? For one, she might want to join, like you said. I may, in part, be keeping her safe. For another, she doesn't need know yet. If she felt like she needed to find out where I go, she'd follow me." I fix Damian's confused expression with a stare. "Do you understand?"

He works his jaw and scuffs his boot on the roof. "I think so. If she trusts you enough to accept the lies about your night activities, you trust her enough to accept her unknown past."

I nod, turning back to the edge of the roof.

"But _how_," he stresses before we move on. "I don't understand _how_."

I shrug. "It happens. You can't _try_ to trust someone. If you're trying, there's a reason you can't. It just happens." I look back at him again, a faint smile pulling at the mask of Batman. "I trust you."

He scoffs, his open expression hardening. "You shouldn't."

"And that's exactly why I do." I don't ask to hear his declaration of trust, and he doesn't offer one. That's just the type of relationship we'd developed.

We continue patrol, preventing and investigating crimes. So much like when I'd last stationed here, yet so different. Robin is Batman and Batman's son is Robin. A sudden rush of emotions crashes over me as it finally, _finally_ sinks in.

It didn't sink in when I came to Gotham and saw Bruce's body laid out in the BatCave. It didn't sink in when the DNA results came back positively identifying it as his. Not when we incinerated him, when I read his will, when we set up the memorial suit in both the Cave and the Watchtower.

It's _Bruce_. He wasn't just a person. He was a _symbol._ Intimidating, unstoppable, invulnerable. And he isn't coming back. _He can't._

I'm Batman. Because Batman is dead.

* * *

He's dead. This is stupid. He's dead.

The words cycle through my head though I pay them no attention. The knife in my hand continues to tear at the expensive carpet, jagged and uneven. Dust and fibers swirl with the wind made from my movements, kicking up into my eyes.

I'll look a mess to Alfred and Damian. Luckily, they're both out. Damian with the Teen Titans and Alfred running errands. Dani had yet to show her face. Alfred said she'd stayed up until almost three in the morning playing video games, so I guess I shouldn't expect her until noon. It'd only been about four days since she'd come here, and she was still trying to adjust to the manor and a regular sleep schedule.

I shuffle forward and yank the knife through the next part of the carpet. Why are these hallways so long?

My hands are starting to hurt with the force I'm gripping the knife, but I can't stop. I'm so stupid. Perfect DNA match. No one can _fake_ that. What do I think I'll find?

"Here."

My hand stills, though my heart is pounding and my breath is coming out ragged. I tilt my head up to Dani, who's standing over the cuts in the carpet, offering a huge pair of tree-cutters. In her other hand is a bottle of water. I don't understand the expression on her face- it's soft and almost impassive, though there's a kind half-smile on her lips.

I drop the knife and lean back against the wall, accepting the water. Sighing heavily, I twist the cap off the bottle and take a drink. When I lower it, Dani's leaning her elbow on the clippers with a tilted head, silently questioning my actions.

Rubbing the lid of the water bottle between my fingers, I reply to her unasked question, "I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm doing."

She looks up the hallway. "It looks like you're cutting carpet." Hefting the clippers, she shoves the blades where I'd left off and slice down. She glances back at me, noticing my furrowed eyebrows. "What?"

"I'm okay now," I reply, even though I still feel awful. At least okay enough to stop tearing at the carpet with a hunting knife. "You don't have to help me desecrate the carpet."

"Why were you?"

I shake my head, still toying with the cap. "I don't know."

"Then let's keep going until we find out." She pries apart the tool and begins cutting again. This time, I stand up, placing the now-empty bottle in a nearby trash dispenser before going to retrieve my own pair of heavy-duty clippers.

After cutting the entire length of the hallway, we slit the sides and roll the carpet to the opposite wall. I scan the entire length of the floor but find nothing. Dani frowns when I shake my head but lifts the clippers onto her shoulders and walks to the next hallway.

She turns to me when I don't immediately follow. "Come on."

"We can't just rip up all the carpet," I protest.

"Why not? We ripped up this one, and we haven't found what you're looking for. Go big or go home, Dick."

She turns away and heads to the next hallway.

* * *

**I caved. Here's one more.**


	12. Chapter 12

My arms are aching. I'm fit from all the traipsing around the world I've been doing, but I can't say I've specifically developed the muscles needed for this kind of work. I put the huge scissors against the wall and roll my shoulders and neck.

Dick glances over at me. "Want to take a break?"

"I am," I reply, stretching my arms behind my back. Twisting my neck back and forth one more time, I grab my tool again. "And now I'm done."

He regards me with a sad look, almost like he's apologizing for dragging me into this mess, before returning to work as well. We'd been at this for almost four hours and we hadn't found anything. We had made plenty of progress, though. The entire second floor and most of the third was now completely carpet free. In the hallways, anyway.

Dick insists there's no point doing the first floor, as the entire thing was renovated due to an attack several years back. He still hadn't explained what he was looking for. To be honest, I don't think he's even sure.

After we'd settled into our rhythm, our speed had picked up. The shears we're using are sharp and heavy duty, taking apart the carpet with no trouble at all. In no time at all, we'd finished the third floor hallways.

"To the fourth?" I ask pleasantly.

"No," he says, sounding defeated. "It doesn't have carpet. It's an attic."

"Did you already check up there for what you were looking for?"

"Yeah."

"Do you think he left some message or something?" I finally cave, exasperated. "I mean, there's got to be a reasonable place to look."

He looks surprised, almost like he hadn't considered what I'd asked. "A message from him," he muses, looking around at the carnage surrounding us.

Without another word, he barges into the nearest room. I move to follow, but all he does is walk in, swing his head left and right, and walk back out. He repeats this process for the next room and the next as I follow, confused but remaining quiet.

In a couple rooms, he kneels to inspect the carpet, but doesn't do more. Still confused, I follow as he enters another room, this time lived-in. Dick takes a moment longer in this one, kneeling by an edge, and I cautiously peer in and test a foot on the carpet.

"Am I dead?" I mutter, looking around for the Teen of Angst.

Dick grins at me. "This is Dra- I mean Tim's room." I tilt my head at his emphasis. "Tim Drake."

Ah, Damian calls everyone by his last name. Not that I hadn't noticed in the past few days, but it can be difficult keeping track of everyone's monikers for each other. Dick calls everyone by their first names-and occasionally by nicknames- Damian by last, and Alfred with "Miss" and "Master" tacked on. Also, everyone refers to _multiple_ people as "Red". I don't know how many people that works for or who they are, but I'm leaning towards double digits. At least. "It's a good thing I don't have a last name," I mutter.

Dick glances up, mildly interested, but doesn't press the issue. He has no idea how grateful I am for that. I'd tried going by Fenton for about two weeks after escaping Vlad the first time. No matter how much Danny assured me I could take the name, it felt wrong. Like I was trying to become Danny. I already took his first name.

We leave the room and enter another, which Dick assures me is also safe. The next, he warns me playfully, and I enter a room that reeks of the Angst. There's a large black dog snuggled up on yet another large bed, which lifts his head and growls at the two of us.

I tilt my head at the dog and make no move to enter the room, observing from the outside. Lavish, but completely bare. The only sign that the room is occupied is the dog and a stereo by the bed, stacks of cds scattered around it. Dick observes the carpet once more.

Next we enter Bruce's room, which Dick pauses longer at, taking time to run his fingers over the carpet and test the strength of it around the edges. Like Damian's room, it is lavish but impersonal, like a hotel room.

Finally, Dick leads me to his room. Like Tim's room, it's in chaos, with clothes and papers strewn about. There are video games attached to the TV across the room from Dick's bed, which is unmade. Against one wall there's a huge bookcase, accompanied with a desk covered in some of its books. I notice some basic gymnastic equipment such as a mat and a pull-up bar, along with a large poster of three circus acrobats. _The Flying Graysons_, it reads.

Dick's family.

I study it for a moment before watching Dick observe the carpet once more. He stills at one area, running his fingers back and forth, before standing abruptly. Hurriedly, he starts collecting items on the floor, tossing them on his bed. It's unimpressive until clothes becomes the TV and its stand, the chairs and a lamp. He tosses them all on the bed, and I wince when he drops a chair on his TV.

"You're going to break something," I warn pointlessly before leaving the room to get the shears. When I return, Dick had fit everything but the bookcase and the desk onto his bed. I hand him his and he punctures the carpet, wiggling the blade inside the hole.

Before he can cut, Damian's voice cuts through the air. "GRAYSON!" he shouts, equal parts anger and confusion. "WHAT DID YOU _DO_?!"

I struggle not to laugh and fail miserably.

A moment later, Damian rushes into the room, face livid. Huh, quick. "You destroyed father's _house_," he growls, eyes dark.

"I helped," I offer unhelpfully. Damian turns his glare on me and man, if looks could kill I'd be more than half-dead right now… Still, I can't force the amusement to leave, and Damian scoffs in disgust at my smile.

"They're just carpets, Damian," Dick explains patiently.

"What are you, _Drake_?" I take that as an insult, with the way he says it. "Destroying the house _needlessly_ will do nothing! Nothing!"

"Just be glad I didn't do your room," Dick comments offhandedly, focusing back on the floor. With a push of his arms, the carpet slices. I help as soon as Dick has moved, cutting the opposite direction. Damian continues to rant about the respect his Father's house deserves, and how it will be his because he's his Father's only "true" son, but after a moment I block it out.

After we finish our perpendicular lines, I realize Damian's rant had trailed off. Uncertain, Damian moves to the flap we'd created and grasps underneath it. Dick and I join him on either side, together pulling away the thick, heavy carpet.

Damian breathes out an utter of disbelief while Dick lets out a strangled sigh, somewhere between exhaustion and relief. Stretched out before me, slightly off-center from our cut, is a huge, etched in drawing of a bat.

It's just an outline and is extremely crude, probably done with something blunt, like a butter knife. And the bat… it's less of a real bat and more of a symbol. Like… Batman's symbol. Below it, there's a jagged _1939._

"Is that what you were looking for?" I ask, a satisfied grin spreading across my face. Dick mutters wordlessly and brushes the scratches. Damian, also speechless, goes to his shoulder. Both are entranced.

"It's actually old," Dick observes, his fingers still tracing the outline. "Weathered just as it should be."

"Is this… _Was_ this Father?" Damian asks, breathless.

I frown and fold my arms, dejected. "Not unless your dad's a time-traveling Batman," I quip. They both look up at me, expectant. Uncomfortable, I let my arms fall from their fold. "What?" I look at the symbol and then back at their almost-guilty expressions. Realization dawns on me a moment later, my brain rapidly connecting the dots. "Oh! OHH!"

Damian groans. "There you go."

* * *

Dick, with an excited grin he's trying in vain to suppress, tugs on one of the inner pulleys of the clock. Whirring, the clock slides aside, revealing a small elevator. Without waiting, I jump inside, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

Dick joins me, sliding his finger across a screen to close the door and start the elevator. "Ahhh this is so exciting," I bubble, anxiously awaiting our destination. Since it's so high speed, it only takes moments before the door slides open. Impatient, I dart forward, trying to see everything at once.

This is almost like seeing Northern Lake Baikal in Russia. There's too many amazing things to see at once!

The cavern is high and disappears into stalactites and darkness, and in the midst I can hear the faint squeaks of bats. There are a few different floors that I can see, all open so you can see all of them from anywhere in the cave, poles running as stairs between them. The floor we'd landed on housed the Bat-Computer: a large, multi-screen, multi-keyboard phenomenon with several wires connecting all sorts of gadgets to it.

"This is the forensics floor," Dick explains, pointing out a couple pieces of tech around the area as we go. Next, he walks over to a nearby pole and grabs it, flicking his wrist down before letting himself fall through the hole.

I grab the pole and bounce into the hole, but instead of following the _normal_ rules of gravity, the area around where my hand holds glows blue and I shoot up instead.

I decide to go with the flow.

Dick notices I hadn't followed him down, and, with recurrent chuckles, follows me back up. "And this is kind of a lab. We do a lot of different things up here. This way is the trophy case…"

It's an outlying area that continuously runs through all floors, holding a wide variety of strange items. This is just like the Le Fevre in Paris. I might actually die of excitement. I need to see _everything. Right now._

Sensing this, Dick intentionally walks and talks slowly, much to my chagrin. I dart ahead of him, forcing him to speed up before getting left behind. We head down, this time Dick showing me how to slide down instead of rocket up.

The pole is some kind of techno-wonder, using energy to pull me down quicker than gravity would. I barely manage to let go as we reach the level past the main floor. "Training area," Dick explains, and goes down to the next floor without showing me around.

"And _this_…" Spreading his arms wide, he displays the large basement. "Is the hangar-slash-tech lab." With a swipe of his finger on his phone, the lights flick on, illuminating the area.

A small portion of the Cave's floor is water, occupied by a thin, sleek water craft and several smaller jet-skis/boats, gently rocking with the current. One huge area holds aircrafts, one larger than the others, all facing a large tunnel I assume they use to exit. A hallway directly behind Dick holds, from what I can see, different battlesuits and weaponry, all spotlighted like trophies.

Dick gestures behind me, smile half his face, and I turn to see the best-freaking-car I've ever beheld in my entire three years alive.

"Is that the Batmobile?" My words come out high-pitched and a little too fangirly for my taste, but I refuse to be embarrassed. Instead, I go over to the car and inspect the sleek form of it. It's matte black, seeming to absorb the light around it. The wheels are some futuristic crap with barely anything inside, almost like outlined circles.

I don't know cars, so I can't describe with the justice this car deserves. It's just. so. cool.

Without warning, the car comes to life, the underbelly and wheels glowing blue and the engine purring. The floor beneath me pitches, slowly rotating the car towards another tunnel. Dick tilts his head suggestively towards the car.

I push down my excitement and manage a calm tone. "Are we going for a drive? If you're teasing, I might just die."

He laughs, tapping his phone again. The engine rumbles as the top of the car slides back seamlessly, broadcasting the interior of the car. I refrain from squealing (though just barely) and skirt around the car, waiting beside the passenger seat for Dick to get in.

With excessive flair, Dick front-flips over the back of the car to land in the driver's seat. I roll my eyes at the show and hop onto the side of the car, swinging my legs in. "Buckle up," he teases, pushing a button on the console to return the roof. I grab the seatbelt beside me and click it into place.

"What about yours?"

He smirks from the corner of his eye, grasping the wheel with both hands. "I'm Batman."

Then he floors it.

The car shoots to life, wheels easily gripping the ground and rocketing us forward, pushing me back into the seat. I let out a whoop as Dick swings the wheel with the turns in the tunnel. A glance at the speedometer shows how close we are to one hundred mph, though why Dick felt the need to go that fast in what appears to be a sewer pipe is beyond me.

A mechanical whirring climbs over the roar of the engine, and the road suddenly dips down, showing the rapidly approaching wall opening just wide enough to allow us through. Dick swerves, sharply turning the car towards the road that had just appeared.

The screen taking up the majority of the console shows a map of possible routes in front of us, showing the direct amount of traffic each possible turn. Dick always takes the least busy street, easily swerving around any cars that straggled on the near-deserted areas.

Growing tired of the revving engine sound, though not of the ride itself, I push a button with a one on it. Dick gives a shout of surprise as the car leaps forward unexpectedly, but quickly adjusts to the new speed. "I know the temptation, believe me, but I wouldn't recommend pushing the buttons."

"I thought it was a preset," I explain, gesturing to the row of 1-6 buttons.

He chuckles, manipulating the screen instead. "No, those are power boosts. Batman doesn't usually have the radio buttons in the Batmobiles, since he's all 'I'm too busy saving Gotham to listen to music', but it's still here." He selects a radio station from the list that pops up.

I don't realize I'm expecting heavy metal until something pop comes on. I look at Dick incredulously, to which he asks, "Umm… What? Do you want something else?"

"No, this is my kind of music," I reply, and somehow he understands my meaning.

"So do I. Bruce liked heavy classical music." He gets a deliberating look on his face. "I think. Music is for the weak, I guess."

I laugh and he turns it up. We drive in music-filled company for a long time, enjoying both the ride and the looks from people as we drive past. As we pass the economy district, I turn the music down low, just as Dick holds out a ridiculously out-of-tune high note.

"Nice," I quip. He sticks his tongue out at me. "Hey I have the best idea that anyone has ever thought of ever." For emphasis, I start bouncing in my seat, attempting to get him as hyped as I am.

"What is it?"

I hold my arms out, as if gesturing to the bright future. "Drive-through."

He snickers, then sighs. "No, we can't. Neither of us have masks on."

"Where's the suit, Dick? Where's the _spare Batman suit?!_"

Dick dissolves into laughter as I rummage around, looking for where Batman's suit _has_ to be. He tries to tell me where it is, but is drowned out by both my frenzied search and mumbled exclamations and his own laughter. He finally forces out that there's a compartment for Batman's suit under his seat and one for Robin's under mine.

With enough whining/coercing/begging, he finally pulls over into a deserted alleyway, far away from any habitable district, and pushes my seat back to reveal the compartment. "Not that I'm going to make you Robin, but put it on. The windows are one-sided glass. I'm serious, though: one time only."

"That's okay, I don't want to be Robin," I assure him, sliding back the lid to reveal the famous R emblem. "Only for the most epic drive through experience ever. Also, I want to fight Damian."

"Ha, don't do that. He's a trained assassin." I glare at him defiantly and he shrugs. "But by all means, be my guest." He opens the door and slides out. "There's a Bat-former here for Bruce in emergency situations, so give me two minutes."

I watch in amazement as he taps a brick, types a code into the screen it reveals, and steps into the gaping hole the brick wall suddenly creates. Wasting no time (as I'm sure Dick is trained to change quickly), I quickly replace my shirt with the Robin uniform top. It's made for a boy, but is luckily a size too big and fits me fine. I wiggle out of my shorts and into the pants, which run past my feet. I put on the boots to hide it.

The gloves fit well, though I find them far too bulky. The cape is annoying, especially since I'm in a car, but I leave it on anyway. To complete the look, I take the forest green domino mask and conform the material onto my face. I had previously worried whether it would stay on, but now realize the underside of the mask is made with some kind of sticky gum, keeping it secure where I'd placed it.

There's a tap on the glass, and I shout "come in", dropping my shed clothes into the container and pushing my seat back into place.

The person that hops into the seat is no one I recognize. I realize now how so few ever manage to figure out superhero identities: I can't see Dick under all the Batman. His posture is stiffer, his face impassive, his movements more controlled and sure.

I watch the whites of his mask travel my costume, slightly lingering here and there, probably for further analysis. Uncomfortable, I cough slightly into my fist, silently asking Dick to show himself.

Luckily, he does. "McDonald's?"

"Wendy's," I respond, grinning.

"Ooh, _frosties_."

I bet the old Batman didn't even know what a frostie was.

The Batmobile shoots forward. "You look so uncomfortable in that," he observes after swerving out of the alley and onto the road.

I pick at the material of the glove. "It's… weird."

"No vigilantism for you?"

While the words are Dick, they come from a gruffer voice. It's his default tone in this setting, I think. Ugh, this is so disorienting.

"No," I respond, trying not to think of my alter-ego. Dick is _Batman_, for ghost's sake. He'd know instantly if I hid something. "There are other ways to do good without being a hero."

He barks a laugh, sounding like Batman even in that. "I dare you to say that at a Justice League meeting."

He's on the Justice League.

How had I _forgotten_ that?! Now I can _never_ tell him about my Phantom side! Danny's on the Justice League… In the brief time I'd known him as a hero, he'd shown me a lot of himself. I _know_ Danny. He'd talked of the Justice League only once in my three visits. He idolized them, believed in them, and longed to fight beside them. Not as a small-town hero, but as a world-wide protector; their _equal_.

A ghost… A ghost is ageless. But the human underneath… They would never let a seventeen year-old teenager on the Justice League. Danny knew that. I know that.

I can't betray his dream! That'd be like destroying his space shuttle just before he launches into space!

Dick doesn't notice my reverie, or doesn't comment. I shove all those thoughts out of my head. This isn't a present problem. This is a problem for the future. The distant, distant future.

I need to focus on right now, which will be, I note as Dick rolls down his window and starts to order, the best night of my half-life.

* * *

**Thank you for the comments! Especially those of you who helped with this timeline's plot; it was incredibly helpful. It's so weird editing this chapter, since I'm so far ahead with the plot in my rough drafts. I just did a chapter with Dann_y_ Phantom...**


	13. Chapter 13

Well, I have to hand it to Dani. That was probably one of the best experiences I've _ever_ had in Gotham. The look on that cashier's face when we pulled up to the window was _priceless_. As soon as he squeaked out "Batman", there was a scramble as the workers split between doing their job and coming up to talk to us.

My personal favorite part of the evening, however, was when a lanky teen went up to Dani's window and asked why she was a girl if the Robin that had been running around recently was a boy.

"I recently went through some personal changes," she responded, slightly deepening her voice. "Gender is a sliding scale."

I nearly lost it, picturing the media claiming Damian as a trans and fighting over which was his original gender. Damian would probably stab Dani, but with the smirk she was wearing, I'm willing to bet that was a risk she was willing to take.

After that, we drove up to one of the hills overlooking the city and ate our Wendy's on the hood, arguing over whether it was gross or not to dip the fries in the frosty. Dani had thought it was hilarious that the gloves were getting salty, rubbing her fingers together and randomly flicking fries on my cape.

I was right to bring her here. I hadn't felt like myself ever since I'd taken up Bruce's cowl. I'd been carrying the world on my shoulders. Still am. Probably always will. At least Dani can take it away for a moment.

"I wish you could see the stars," Dani murmurs, laying back to look at the dirty, low-hanging clouds.

"Me too," I agree. "Bludhaven and Gotham are both so polluted."

We're quiet for a second, until, "What did you do in Bludhaven?"

"I was a police officer," I reply, as if she didn't already know and if I didn't know what she meant by her question. She gives an annoyed sigh. "Nightwing. I was Nightwing."

She sucks in a sharp breath, sitting back up to look at me. "What, really?" I nod, and she lays back, frowning. "Then who is it _now_?"

"I have a friend filling in, but not for too much longer." Chris is a great guy, and he has some talents I really admire, but he's no Nightwing. He's not the acrobat, he's not the detective… "He's just making sure no one makes the connection between Nightwing and Grayson."

"Ah."

After another moment of silence, my glove vibrates, sending me an alert. I glance at the screen embedded in my forearm. It's a message from Damian: **Where are you? Did you go on patrol without me? Grayson! **Each sentence is a new text, and I hurriedly type out a reply before he starts spam-texting me.

**no i took dani for a drive in the batmobile. i'll be back soon**

**What, why? How soon?**

**i'll be back soon chill**

"Damian's freaking out," I inform her, "Let's head back."

She laughs softly, sliding off the hood. After disposing of our trash, we get back in the car and I kick the car into gear. "Do you want to get back dressed like that?" I ask.

Defensive, she glares. "Yes."

"Just making sure…" I focus back on driving.

She's quiet, thinking. "Is he really an assassin?"

Her tone is more curious than wary. She doesn't seem disturbed in the slightest. "Yeah, he is." She gets a thoughtful expression on her face, which I find amusing, and I continue with a story. "He was ten when I first met him. I saved the life of this other assassin and Damian and I got into a… tussle. I won, but he got some good hits in and man… those swords _sting_."

"Assassin to hero," she muses, prompting me to explain the transition.

"Ah, I love Damian," I sigh. "He was misguided after being trained from birth to be the ultimate weapon, but he's got a good heart. He grew up where being an assassin was the only path for him. When he discovered there was another side, he switched, even if there have been some setbacks. There was a period after we met where he tried to fight me every chance he got, trying to redeem himself after his defeat. But I never caved. The trick to Damian is treating him as an equal; not your superior or inferior. If you don't play along with his antics, he'll stop trying."

Dani observes my smile and reflects one of her own. "I get it. Not treating him like a mistake. Like a poor copy of his dad."

Not exactly what I was saying, but, "That's a big part, yes."

"And you really love him?"

"As much as he'll let me." I look at her faraway expression, thinly veiled by the mask. "What's up?"

The look vanishes and she fixes me with a more serious and resigned look than what I've learned to expect from her. "Nothing," she mutters, looking away. "Just reminds me of someone I know."

_Know_. Not _used to know_. Not _knew_. "Damian? Or me?" Her words aren't depressed or traumatized, and they don't inspire any suspicion in me. With the sheer amount of shields she carried around her secrets, I'd suspected it was marred by deaths similar to any of those living in the Wayne household. The way she said "someone I know", it was clear how much she cared for the person in question, and if that someone isn't dead… Maybe she's not traumatized. Maybe she has a whole other reason for being guarded.

She senses the hidden strain for answers underneath my faux-carefree inquiry. The mischievous quirk to her smile comes back as she regards me again. "Starting to wonder?"

"I'm always wondering," I sigh.

"Steady on," she prompts, leaning back into the chair as we re-enter the tunnels. "It'll be a while yet."

I'm not dropping this. "Until you trust me?"

She blows her bangs off her forehead, exasperated. "It has nothing to do with you. It has to do with the trust someone else has in _me_."

Unfortunately, we arrive back at the BatCave at this point, barring me from any further interrogation. I suppress a groan when I see Damian's incredibly ticked off posture awaiting our arrival.

Dani chuckles, adjusting her gloves. "This is going to be fun." Without waiting for another warning from me, she does a sloppy somersault out of the car, finishing proud in front of Damian.

He sputters, looking from her to me and back. "You said-" he begins, and I feel a little bit guilty at the betrayal in his voice.

"She's-"

"I'm the NEW ROBIN!" she announces, throwing her arms out behind her to rustle the cape. "With my amazing skills I protect all of GOTHAM and the whole world!" I stifle another laugh (feels like I'm doing that a lot lately, not that I'm complaining) as she struts in front of a ruffled Damian, highlighting her many features like some kind of action figure.

"You are _not_ the new Robin!" he finally protests when he finds the words. "I could beat you in a fight in ten seconds. Probably less."

"Prove it," she dares, smirking.

Damian pins her before I can even finish thinking she might have a trick up her sleeve. With his knee in her back and her right arm twisted in front of him, Damian looks to me for either praise or scorn. I offer neither, tilting my head at the scene. With the confidence she had displayed with her dare, I'd assumed she would have some kind of trick to exploit Damian's rash decisions. But she didn't react; not even a flinch.

Dani wiggles her face until it's not pressed into the concrete, giving me a huge grin from her position. "Well, what'd you think was going to happen?" I ask her.

She laughs. Damian, confused, lets her go and steps back, looking between the two of us. "What's going on?" he demands.

"Nothing," Dani giggles, accepting my help up. She peels off the mask, showing her twinkling blue eyes. "I just thought it would be funny."

His scowl deepens.

"Relax, Damian. She has no interest in taking your spot."

"Nor the skill," Damian sniffs, turning his head away like a spoiled brat.

"Hey, I have skill! I just don't have your-" she waves her hands around widely "kind of skill!"

"Oh, really?" Damian turns to her and they stare each other down. I wonder if Alfred will bring me popcorn… "Like what?"

"I speak the many languages," she returns, voice lilting with several different accents all at once. "I know all about the world! And the stars! And…" She pauses. She and I both know she has a long repertoire of various skills she's picked up from all over the world, but they're all minor lessons. Things like picking a lock, recognizing certain illnesses, hopping trains, sensing danger. I've only met a select few others with her ingenuity for practical street smarts, but she can't claim to have mastered what Damian can boast. Finally, she decides on, "I'm a master escape artist."

"Really?" He doesn't sound convinced or impressed.

She nods once with an air of finality, adding, "And I'm great at dodgeball."

Damian rolls his eyes and throws a wingding in the same moment. I step forward, ready to intervene with what could be a very painful collision, but Dani swerves to the side, simultaneously clasping her gloved hands around the item. Swinging, she brings down its momentum, cleverly avoiding cuts from the sharp edges. She doesn't look surprised with herself but instead unimpressed, lightly glaring at Damian.

"Nice," I praise. I've known for a while that her reflexes are nothing to underestimate, but that move was really quite impressive. Not that I'm surprised.

Damian scoffs. "Whatever, I threw it slow."

Dani tosses the object back and explains, "When you've been where I've been, fast reflexes are a nice thing to have."

"Especially if Damian keeps throwing things at you." I stab a thumb towards the Batmobile. "Let's head out, Robin."

"I thought you guys were going to keep looking for clues about the big bat on your floor," Dani interjects.

I shrug. "We have to patrol first. Besides, the next clue would logically be down here, since the first was a bat. I have a drone seismically searching the area. It'll still be here when I get back."

There isn't much more to do. There are a few places we could search down here, like the unexplored caverns (hopefully not, since they are essentially the entire underground network of Gotham), the bat sanctuary, the underground river… But I can't delude myself into thinking I can find it by searching myself, or that Gotham's crime will wait while I do.

I look pointedly at Dani. "You can explore, but do not go where there aren't any lights installed. Not unless you have Alfred with you." Ha, like she'll take him with her.

She sniffs, indignant. "I'll be-"

"No, these caves are dangerous. Bobby-trapped. I'm serious, Dani. I didn't expect you to never find out about the goings-on down here, but I will _not_ have you get hurt because of it. If I have to, I will lock you out of here. Understood?"

Her eyes narrow before she sighs, stepping down. "I _swear_ you two are the same _person_…"

With that cryptic explanation, she stalks off, discarding her gloves and boots as she goes. I smirk, turning to hop into the Batmobile where Damian is brooding impatiently. "Finally," he complains.

"Oh, hush," I quiet, speeding off. From the corner of my eye, I see Damian watch the rear-view mirror and, coincidentally, Dani. His mouth is still pressed into a hard scowl, but I see the faintest softness in his eyes.

When we leave the cave, he readjusts forward and sniffs. He gets a confused look on his face, trying to place the smell. "Did you eat food in Father's car?" he demands.

Stoic, I stare ahead, deepening my voice. "I'm Batman," I answer instead.

"But this is Fa-"

"I'M BATMAN."

"Father's Bat-"

"BATMAN!"

Damian glares furiously at me before leaning back, folding his arms. "You're an idiot, Grayson." He quickly follows up before I can proclaim my position again. "Don't you _dare_."

I snicker.

"I miss Father," he grunts, sinking further into his seat.

"Shut up, you love me." He scoffs, but I like to think it was to cover up a smile.

* * *

**~Disclaimer, Disclaimer~**


	14. Chapter 14

"And what is your particular reasoning, Miss Dani?" Alfred drawls in that accent of his, looking skeptical as he had when I first started explaining.

Thinking fast, I rap my knuckle against the wall, pretending to notice a difference between that particular spot and one a couple feet beside it. Alfred's face softens.

"Looking to be a detective?" he asks, stepping forward (carefully, to avoid the filth of the sanctuary's floor) and examining my discovery. "This was quite ingenious of you."

Yeah, ingenious. Not me walking through the walls of the sanctuary searching for a pocket of air.

It had occurred to me one day a little over a week of knowing Dick's dual identity. I was wandering the Cave once more, still curious despite having explored the entirety of the Cave. Alfred, of course, always found excuses to be down at the same time I was, making sure I didn't wander off. Though I wonder if Dick even asked him to intervene. He doesn't seem the type to tattle on me to the butler.

Anyway, I was going through ideas about where the next clue to Bruce's little treasure hunt was. Dick had been tied up with a new villain suddenly blowing up Gotham, proclaiming himself "Batman's replacement". He had popped up rather suddenly and caused a lot of chaos in the short week he'd been moonlighting.

Alfred had been entertaining me, mostly. Shopping, telling stories, holding impromptu lessons. He's a chill dude, but I want to hang out with Dick. But he's busy. So I figured I would try searching the Cave for the next clue. Seemed easy enough. Except I'm not a detective.

I blame my DNA.

Then the thought came to my mind when I had happened upon an area of the Cave where the screeching of bats could be heard. The bat sanctuary. What reason would Batman have to go up there?

I'd found the way up there via a set of stone stairs. When I found the small alcove housing a small box (by the feel of it), I'd immediately alerted Alfred to my find.

Lucky I'm a good liar. I was so excited I'd forgotten it was unlikely the other members of the bat-family can walk through walls like I can. As Alfred taps the stone, I glance around the dimly lit sanctuary and come up with more info to support my totally natural discovery.

"See how the rocks are piled up in some places? I came up because I figured Batman wouldn't be up here and then that if there was something hidden you could hear the difference..." I'm rambling. I never ramble. Hopefully Alfred takes it as excitement instead of a nervous cover-up. Composing myself, I feign nonchalance with a one-shouldered shrug. "It made sense. Sorta."

He raises an eyebrow. "Quite." He shucks his gloves and places them in his inner coat pocket before shedding the coat as well and discarding it on a nearby pile of rocks. I don't mention it was dirty; he probably knew. "Help me uncover what you've found."

A large rock is rolled right where I'd found the hole, and it in turn is held by several smaller rocks. We start tossing them aside, causing dust to kick up and the bats to start screeching. "Pesky animals," is Alfred's only complaint.

Eventually, they fly off through a tunnel I expect will lead them to the surface. Alfred and I continue moving rocks, scraping our hands and ruining our clothes but not caring. We come together in a combined effort as we reach the last rock, heaving our shoulders against the stone to dislodge it.

After a moment of no success, Alfred disappears down the steps, coming back a few minutes later with his sleeves rolled up and holding a contraption resembling a bazooka with nail clippers on the end. I'd been resting my back against the wall, picking at where the stone met the wall, trying to wiggle my fingers in what few holes I could find.

"Please step back, miss," Alfred orders politely, hefting the gun. I slide off and move behind him as he wedges the gun between the rock and the wall and flicks the switch. Painful screeching of rock on rock on metal reverberates around the small space, causing my hands to move of their own accord and clap onto my ears.

When the rock moves to the extent of the device's reach, I move forward and help Alfred pull the stone from its place. Inch by agonizing inch, the stone relents under our combined weight and finally tilts of its own accord, falling back. Alfred and I hurriedly step to the side as the stone yawns over and slams into its new resting place.

And there's my hole. It's half my size, a natural cave tapering off only a few feet back. Pretending I don't know where the box is, I stick my arm inside and start rifling through the hole, following the grooves of the uneven stone.

Alfred finds it, as I knew he would. With a sharp gasp, he pulls the box free from its ledge slightly above the opening of the cave (it went a half foot or so above, which is what caused the different sound when I tapped it).

It's an old jewelry box, made of dark wood, a jagged bat carved into its top. The clasp of the box has an engraved _MW_ and a small keyhole. "Miss Martha's jewelry box," Alfred reveres, brushing his hand along the engraving. "It had gone missing after the funeral. I always thought…" He exhales. "I thought it was gone."

I try to wait until he finishes his trip down memory lane, but get impatient with curiosity. "Do you have the key?"

"Indeed." He climbs to his feet and strides purposefully down the steps, waiting only briefly for me at the bottom as I struggle to catch up with this surprisingly agile old man.

He holds the box reverently, one hand underneath and one hand on the bat, his thumb absently brushing the carvings. Without hesitation, he leads me through the BatCave, up the stairs and back into the mansion.

A few hallways later, he pauses outside a doorway and withdraws a key, opening the door to reveal a dark study. With a grunt of distaste at the lighting, Alfred flips on the sparse lamps and approaches the desk.

Rifling through a drawer, he comes up with a small gold key sealed in a small plastic bag. "It was a keepsake," he explains to me, releasing the key from its prison and into his palm. "The jewelry box was of great importance to Martha. When it was discovered missing, it was a tragedy. Though all of the jewels had been removed and left on the nightstand. It was quite the mystery."

As he talks, he inserts the key into its hole. "We assumed it was someone at the funeral. Now, I wonder…" He turns the key and opens the box.

My pulse thrums in excitement as I take note of the contents; a wad of paper, three pearls and a small ring with a bat made of shiny black rock. I have to physically restrain myself from grabbing the box from Alfred, who's fingering one of the pearls with the same reverence he did the box itself. Ugh, the anticipation!

Finally, Alfred picks up the three pearls and the ring, laying them carefully inside a felt indent in the desk that's most likely used for paperclips. Then he dislodges the paper from its wedge, revealing it as a sort of book crudely tied with string.

The first page is blank, and Alfred turns it. In strange, disconnected cursive, words were scrawled along the page. The beginning of the words would start strongly and end, as if running out of ink. Alfred turns the page again and again, revealing more words in varying darkness, sometimes written in ink and other times in charcoal.

His page turning gets more frantic though no less gentle, and he growls in frustration. I'm guessing that means he doesn't speak… whatever language the writing is in. The final page, however, is written in more modern ink and English, a drastic change from the other pages. It only has a few sentences:

_Retrieved the box from the Black Glove in this century, though it was damaged. I spoke with a woman who gave me these pearls, and I felt it necessary to enclose them with this account, just as I felt it necessary to take this box to hold them. I left a mark in a room I've never been, staying long enough to ensure the carpet being installed hides it from sight. It will be found and so will this account, though I can't understand why I am so sure or why I chose this particular cavern to hide the box. The ring belongs to a Black Glove operative. _

… That's it.

Well, I'm sure there's more in the other pages, but for what we can understand, this is it. It's enough for Alfred to gasp and sigh heavily, hands trembling. "That means he's alive," I conclude, though I know it's only stating the obvious. "Just not in the right time period." Awkward at the silence of Alfred, I place a hesitant hand on his shoulder. "We can fix that, right?"

With a final heave, he stands abruptly, catching my hand as it falls from his shoulder. Holding it firmly, he looks me in the eye. "We can, Miss Dani. That is something we can fix."

Letting go of my hand, he strides out of the office.

For a shocked moment, I look down at my hand and back up at the open door, trying to comprehend the emotion that was in the usually impassive butler's face. _Too much_, I decide. There was simply _too much_ emotion in that moment.

Finally I follow him, deciding he must be in the BatCave when I don't spot him immediately. When I get down there, he's sitting at the BatComputer, the papers laid beside one of the many consoles, no longer held by string. On the screen, there's a copy of each page laid side by side. I glance back from where I came. How long was I by myself? Four minutes? Five?

Whatever. Must be a Bat thing. "Translating?" I ask.

"Trying, miss," he responds, glaring at the screen. "I'm afraid Master Bruce's skill for decoding near any language is beyond my reach."

"Where's Dick?"

"Busy," he responds, gesturing to two screens depicting personages of Batman and Robin. Red impact points flash intermittently on their screen-selves, lines spiking every time. I finally recognize the screens as vital monitors and turn away, not interested in watching them get dealt blows.

"Print me a copy?" I ask politely, and he curiously agrees, wondering aloud if I had any more tricks up my sleeve. "I might," I tease, accepting a pen he offers. When I gather all the printed papers, I lay them out on a desk and uncap the pen. "I visited a lot of museums on my trek around the world. One was in Great Britain-I forget the name-which houses old literature works, like _Beowulf_. There were all these charts of different letters in different languages… One of the cooler museums, even if it did smell like a stuffy library." As I talk, I circle letters I recognize and box the ones I don't. "See this swirly character?" I point with the pen and bend the paper so he can see. "It's an 's'."

"You really are quite remarkable," he compliments, and I shrug, embarrassed.

"I just travel a lot."

He shakes his head affectionately. "Ah, modesty is something to be desired here. I'm glad someone knows its practice."

"Thanks, but I'm not trying to be modest. I can get the letters, but I only speak Spanish from the six weeks I was in Spain. _No puedo leerlo_." Meaning I can speak it-quite fluently, not gonna lie-but I never learned to read it.

"I'm sure either Master Dick or Master Damian possess the literacy in Spanish you lack."

"Olde English-Spanish?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, but they are quite remarkable young men. They'll figure it out." Humming an affirmative, I continue marking up the pages as we wait for Dick's return.

It happens a couple hours later, with no warning and just as Alfred brings down refreshments. Damian and Dick are arguing heatedly as they exit the Batmobile, Damian limping on his left side. I accept a sandwich from Alfred before he sets down the tray and heads over to Damian.

"Sit down!" Dick barks when Damian attempts to wave off Alfred. Reluctantly, he agrees, removing his mask so he can better glare at Dick. "Glare all you want. I gave you a lead and you didn't bother to follow it! That left me without backup and you wandering off into a trap!"

"They caught me unprepared," Damian snaps back.

"That's what a trap _is_! Damian, I swear…" He slips off his cowl, revealing his tired, worry-filled eyes.

"Don't talk to me like I'm a child!"

"Stop acting like one! You're clever, Damian! Don't go running off into traps like nothing can ever hurt you! Confidence is a strength, but arrogance is a flaw. You're letting this guy exploit it!"

"Fine," Damian grits out when Dick's tone turns from angry to worried. "I'll follow your lead next time." They grudgingly drop the fight. I continue eating my sandwich, watching Dick survey Alfred's handiwork. Damian glares off in the distance until looking at Alfred. "What happened to you, Pennyworth?"

"Miss Dani found something of interest and I helped her unearth it."

"Is that what those papers are?" Dick wonders aloud, moving closer to survey the screen. "Strange lettering. How old is this?"

I offer one of my completed papers. "Try reading this."

He accepts the paper and skims it. "This is old. Really old. 'Memories of mine start without prior notice many cycles past. Attention of mine having come to periods of the cycle a man breathes that I do not need-follow. Falling through ages brings me to another civilization of which I do not belong, yet cycles of mine remain unchanged.'" His eyes narrow. "This doesn't make much sense."

I roll my eyes. "Try saying it like this: 'My memories start without warning a long time ago. It comes to my attention that the life-cycle of man is not something I need to follow.' And so on." He scrutinizes the paper again, flipping it to the next. "Read the last page."

He rifles the papers again and skims the last page, eyes widening. "This… Is this…?"

I smile so wide I fear my face will break. "It sure is!"

"What?" Damian demands, annoyed by our encryption. "What is that?"

Dick's eyes shine, completely ignoring Damian's disgruntled muttering. Without warning, he drops the papers and hoists me into the air, spinning me around. I giggle, a little embarrassed but a lot more overjoyed. After spinning me a couple times, he squeezes me in a quick hug and releases me back onto the ground.

"Grayson!" snaps Damian.

"It's Bruce," Dick forces out around his smile. "It's him, these are written by him, in the _past_." Damian freezes, but Dick doesn't wait around for Damian to process. He grabs the papers I was working on, scanning in the completed one. I sit on a nearby chair, watching him type on the computer, scribble something into a nearby tablet, type again, move the mouse and return to the tablet, repeating over and over in a feverish attitude.

Damian comes and joins me in the chair next to mine, occasionally commenting or asking a question. Dick, from what I gather, is using my interpretation to customize his own program, carefully cutting out the characters I defined and linking them through strings of code.

The process takes a long time, in which I share how I found the pages and share what else the jewelry box held.

Even after I finished my tale and Damian and I finished the dinner Alfred brought down for the three of us (Dick was too busy to eat, apparently), the program was not nearly completed.

"Why doesn't the BatComputer have ye olde English in its archives?" I whine once I'd given up on trying to elicit conversation from Damian. He spoke, but unless he was directly answering a question or insulting someone, he chose not to.

"This is ye olde Spanish," Dick murmurs, hands still typing furiously. "I need to transcribe the translation program to fit it to the grammar and conventions of today's English."

"Fascinating," I drawl, leaning my head on my propped up elbow. At least Damian is as bored as I am.

I'm about to suggest we play checkers or something when a loud roaring sounds from the tunnel. Damian's head pops up and he looks to Dick. "Who is that?"

Dick grunts, avoiding Damian's question.

He's about to snap at Dick, but a roaring motorcycle bursts from the tunnel before he can form an argument. I jump to my feet, losing sight of the motorcycle as it skids to a halt underneath our feet. Moments later, a red and black blur shoots up the pole and lands in a crouch before us.

"Drake," Damian snarls, face turning dark.

The guy stands, showing off his bright uniform. It's red with black undertones underneath his arms and legs and making up his breastplate. His shoulders are gold with a bird-like symbol stamped into them, shining in the dim light of the Cave like he's in the sun. His domino mask is also red but with a black trim, same as his gloves and boots. But the most impressive feature of his super-suit is the feather-like cape behind him. They're folded right now, but the way they sway in the wind with his movements, I have no doubt they can open up powerfully as soon as he wants them to.

"Demon spawn," he hisses with the same dark tone. He doesn't spare another glance at him and instead turns to Dick. "I told you, didn't I? I _told_ you he was alive…"

"You did," Dick affirms. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you."

Damian scoffs. "I'm not."

Drake-what was his first name again? Todd?-sneers at Damian, and in doing so, spots me. "What's with her?"

"A demon spawn, if I'm not mistaken."

Damian growls at me, standing so he can move away from me. I frown. I'm going to pay for that.

Drake gives a grim smile. It looks almost painful; as if he hasn't done it in so long it hurts to try. "I already knew that." He returns to Dick. "What's she doing _here_?"

My attempt to not be ignored was completely bypassed. Jerk. "I'm helping," I respond. This time, he doesn't turn around to address me. I eye his cape, wondering if I can mess with his wings before he notices, since he's so good at ignoring me. Luckily, Dick is just as good at ignoring him.

Damian catches my gaze and smirks, daring me.

Not one to back away from a dare, even a nonverbal one, I tiptoe forward. Before I'm even within five feet of him, Drake sighs. "What are you doing?" I can tell by his tone of voice he's addressing me, not Dick.

I relax my sneaking stance, which Damian is highly amused by from the looks of his slightly raised eyebrows. "I was going to attack your wings." Drake turns around and folds his arms, either not amused or just really good at not showing it.

"Really?" he deadpans.

"Yeah. Do you mind, you know" I twirl my finger in a circle. "Turning around again?"

Dick chuckles, even as highly concentrated as he is.

"No," Drake says firmly, making it very clear he's not in the mood.

Unfortunately for him, I am in the mood. "How about going to the edge over there?"

"So you can push me."

"Yeah."

"I'll push you," Damian offers, more light-hearted this time.

I send him a glare, then pretend to contemplate it. "We can do it together."

"No one is going to push me off the platform."

I stare at him incredulously. "But you can fly."

"She's right, Tim," Dick mutters, a small smile on his mouth.

Tim looks between Dick and I. "Seriously, what's the story behind this?"

"It all starts with a guy and his colon," I begin dramatically, and Tim sends a glare that would probably give me a heart attack if I ate enough burgers.

"I want Dick to explain," he all but growls. Before he can add the two last words, I start laughing hysterically, drowning him out for the last bit and completely changing his sentence.

Dick finally breaks away from the computer, chuckling to himself. "This is Dani," he introduces. "Dani, this is Tim Drake-Wayne, aka Red Robin."

"Nice to meet you," I say when my giggles die down. I offer a hand, and he looks at it like he doesn't know what I'm trying to do. I almost explain what a handshake is, but he seems to understand there will be more grief if he doesn't shake my hand and relents. He gives my hand a firm shake before letting his hands fall to his sides.

"You're something else," he says, probably as an explanation for his behavior.

"She is quite refreshing, is she not," Alfred drawls, entering via the elevator. "Master Tim, welcome back."

The first real smile from Tim graces us. "Hey, Alfred." Then he turns back to the screen. "So, tell me how you figured out I was right." He glances at me when I open my mouth. "Not you, Dani. No offense."


	15. Chapter 15

"But… that's not possible. I held his…" Superman cuts off, swallowing. "The DNA test came back positive."

"I know. But this is _him_." I manipulate the screen in my hand, pulling up the translated pages onto the screen. I'd highlighted the text of interest; the ones that actually screamed Bruce.

_I then found myself moving of another's accord, and I believe there may be much I don't remember._

_This belt uses things of sorcery, of magic. The strange metal bats, the pebbles of fire and ice; they've saved my life._

_No language can surprise me. _

_An organization named the _Black Glove _try to sacrifice me to Barbatos, the God of Bats. Was I not Barbatos, in another time?_

The chronicles in the papers are written by Bruce, though it's obvious he doesn't remember who he is. All he has are faint impressions that he encloses with questions, reiterating time and time again that he doesn't know why he does the things he does, why he's even trying to put it into words.

He's trying to communicate with us through his own forgotten memories. I can't help but be impressed by the man, even with the frustration he's causing.

"We've been tracking his progress through what he's written," Tim continues, taking the screen from me and pulling up a timeline. "He wrote about Vandal Savage's beginning, all the way back to the fall of Neanderthal. He described the fall of Babylon, Arthur's conquest in Saxton, Europe, the Seljuk Turks capturing Baghdad, the Middle Ages, Salem, Massachusetts… There are a couple more hints that we weren't able to connect to time periods out of context. The time this was written dates around the mid-1600s. From his descriptions of the ship he seems to be pirating, we suspect it might have something to do with Blackbeard."

"Even if this is him," Wonder Woman intervenes, skeptical, "shouldn't there be an instance of him existing in this time period?"

"Not necessarily," I respond. "The time jumps are random and can range from fifty to hundreds of years at a time. We know he visited 1939, so his next stop could be from now to two hundred years from now."

"And it _is_ him," Tim insists, bringing up another image on the screen. He'd been so _smug_ when he came and found out he was right. Of course, he'd already known, and finally explained _why_ he had been so sure.

A painting of Bruce, labeled "Mordecai Wayne" pulls up on the screen. There are various noises of surprise around us as they recognize the man in the painting.

"Athena's mercy," Wonder Woman breathes.

"Okay. So it's him. But how do we expect to find him if we don't know when he'll appear or for how long?" Green Lantern asks, arms folded. "He doesn't have his memories so it's unlikely he'll be able to find a way back to the present on his own."

"We're going to send a team after him," Tim replies, looking to me briefly for my nod.

Flash, Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Hawkman and Aquaman immediately volunteer, nodding to themselves. Only Hawkgirl and Zatanna, the only other occupants, don't volunteer.

"We already have a team in mind," I speak up over the chatter. They're the world's heroes, but man can they _talk_. "Superman, Green Lantern and Phantom."

"Where _is _Phantom?" Flash asks, eyes darting around. "And why him?"

"Green Lantern has experience with time travel and Superman can deal with many of the dangers documented in Bruce's writings. And Phantom has mentioned his own time travels. He even alluded to the idea that he could do so again. He's going to actually do the traveling."

I pick up where Tim leaves off. "As for where he _is_, he should've been here twenty minutes ago."

Wonder Woman folds her arms in distaste. "Are we sure he's the best option? He can act like a child."

"So can the Flash," Green Lantern points out. Flash protests weakly at the jab. "But I agree he's the best option."

During his time on the League, Phantom had proven himself time and time again; though his young appearance and juvenile humor still had figures like Wonder Woman, Doctor Fate and Hawkgirl doubting his abilities. I, personally, had only interacted with him as Batman, and that was only once or twice for orders. I'd never fought with him.

But I knew what everyone else had told me, and I knew my mentor. Batman had trusted him; had thought him competent. After all, he was the one who had recommended Phantom for permanent membership on the Justice League, even if he wasn't around to see him inducted. If Batman trusted the ghost, so would I.

"Recognized: Phantom. A-1-7."

"Sorry I'm late!" he cries, flying so fast out of the Zeta Beam he's almost a blur. He joins the other heroes, smiling apologetically. "Trouble on my way to the Beam. What's up?"

"Mission to retrieve Batman through time," Flash sulks, put off by the fact that he isn't invited on the rescue mission. Phantom's eyes visibly widen, darting to me.

"I thought…" he begins weakly, gesturing towards me. I understand his malformed question. I'd asked Phantom soon after returning to Gotham to check the Ghost Zone for a Bat-ghost. Two days later, he'd come back and said he'd used a ghostly artifact and confirmed Batman had not been revived as a ghost.

"New information has come to light," Superman supplies before I can, gesturing to the screen. "We believe Batman is alive, and traveling through time."

Tim picks up, "We've called you here to track him down, along with Superman and Green Lantern." He looks between them, offering a smile. The two are easily some of Phantom's closest relations on the team; both being a mentor of sorts and taking time to personally train him. Phantom came to the Justice League with plenty of skills, but he still had a lot to learn about being a world hero, being on a team, and public appearances. "Batman's archives on you suggest you have a method for time traveling."

Phantom's hesitant smile drops and he furrows his eyebrows, looking between Tim and I. "How did he…" He pauses, and the confusion drops off his face. "Oh, right. Batman, duh." I resist the smile at Phantom's words. "But I never said I could."

I can feel Tim's mood darken beside me. "You _can't_ time travel?"

Phantom scoffs, waving away the possibility as if it were a fly. "Of course not. I have an ice core, not a time one. Didn't Batman make a list of my abilities?" He pauses with a thoughtful look, studying the pages on the screen and the crude timeline Tim and I'd compiled. No one interrupts him.

Phantom, from my deduction and Batman's, is a genius who refuses to believe it. I'd read all the notes Batman has on him, and he believed-_believes_-Phantom had been considered dim so long he vehemently believed it himself. If you actively rely on his intelligence, Phantom will fold, but if you give him opportunities and leave it alone, he won't disappoint.

The heroes are silent as Phantom observes our board of evidence, opening his mouth when he comes to a conclusion. Before he can speak, however, his eyes land on the name underneath the painting. "Wayne?" he repeats, instead of whatever else he was going to say. His gaze returns to the painting, which he'd dismissed before. Recognition flares in his neon green eyes. "As in, _Bruce_ Wayne?"

Tim sighs, impatient. "Yes, _Bruce Wayne_. Now you know Batman's identity. Congrats. What were you _going_ to say?"

Phantom raises his eyebrows at Tim's tone. "Okay… Well, I was going to say there's a thing I know of. It's called the Infa-map, and it's a map of the Infinite Realms. It can take you wherever you need to go." He gestures at the timeline. "It can take us to Batman."

Sensing one, I ask, "But?"

His signature smirk crosses his face. "But _Bruce Wayne_! Who knew?" He launches higher in the air, flying over to the Zeta Beam. "I'll get the map; I just have to go grab it. Give me a couple hours."

He enters the Zeta Beam, disappearing in a flash as it announces his departure. I glance at Tim's frown. "What's your problem?"

He glares at me. "Phantom? That's who we're relying on?"

Superman folds his arms. "I can think of no one better to rely on."

I grin at Tim. From the uncomfortable expressions of the Justice League, I can tell they're disconcerted by seeing someone under the cowl smile. "Suck it up, Red. You were right."

A small smile finally pulls at his lips. "Yeah, I was."

* * *

I knock on Dani's door, aware she might kick me. Batman has a busy job, but Dani's never been one for the benefit of the doubt.

When she doesn't respond, I push open the door. The room has barely changed since she had moved here. In fact, the only change wasn't even a real change. Alfred had taken her out to get clothes, but she hadn't cared and refused to cooperate, so Alfred took her measurements and bought twenty of everything.

The bags are piled up on the table and chairs. There's only one that's been rifled through; a pair of shorts and a t-shirt much like she always wears.

With this new "Batman" running around, brutally killing villains and henchmen alike, and the Bruce Wayne look-alike accidently being kidnapped, I'd barely seen her except for the joyride in the Batmobile and when she found the jewelry box (which was actually ingenious on her part). I was letting Tim and Damian run the show tonight, though (not together, of course) and I was finally free to spend some time with Dani.

Dani's in the window, sitting on the ledge and swinging her legs as she watches the sky. She hasn't noticed me-or is ignoring me-with headphones in. Damian, in a rare instance of kindness, had given Dani one of his "old" iPods, filled to capacity with music. It was one of the only things she'd accepted so far.

"Do you even sleep in this bed?" I ask to start the conversation.

She sighs and pulls out the headphones. "No, it's too soft. I sleep here." She pats the window seat, as if I hadn't already seen the wrinkled blanket and pillow and reached that conclusion.

"Sorry I haven't been around," I apologize when she doesn't say anymore.

She shrugs. "You're busy. I get it."

I'm surprised by her response. Maybe she is one to give the benefit of the doubt. She doesn't even look like she had to force it. The expression I see is more of… resigned acceptance.

"Are you okay?"

She withdraws from the window, turning to me, considering my question. Then she shrugs. "Yeah."

I regard her silently.

She rolls her eyes, annoyed. "Look, I'm not like you guys. I don't have dead family or any other traumatic death experience. I'm not an assassin struggling with my conscience. The closest thing I've come to a crisis is an identity crisis, and that barely counts." She brushes aside her bangs, something I'd placed as her annoyed fidget. "Don't go looking for me to break. I _am _okay."

I exhale a breathy laugh, leaning back and hooking my thumbs through my jean's belt loops. "Sorry. Let me rephrase the question. What's wrong? I can't say I've found staring mournfully out the window to be a carefree hobby."

"Yeah, _you_ haven't," Dani accuses, rolling her eyes again. "Stop trying to turn this into a _moment_."

"Jeez, Dani," I groan, teasingly exasperated, "You're so _cranky _today. Just let the moment _happen_."

She juts out her chin, stubborn. "No."

I quirk an eyebrow, a sly smile playing across my face. "I have something that could help."

Unimpressed, she motions for me to go on.

"Follow me."

"Where are we going?"

"Follow me~" I sing playfully, making my way to the door. Reluctantly, she follows, still annoyed.

I ignore her questions about my intentions, leading her up the stairs to the attic, which is a large room with virtually no use. The walls slant upwards, as is the theme with most attics, but the room is designed to let there be a few feet of straight walls before following the form of the roof. The far wall sharing the side of the house rather than the top of it was nothing more than a big window, overlooking the city even as far out as we are.

Dani barely looks around the room, glancing once at the window before focusing back on me. "Why are we up here?" she asks.

"This is your new room," I tell her.

She looks to me in surprise and views the room in a new respect.

It had been Alfred's idea. He was cleaning up here and noticed this room was nothing more than an unused study with a few chairs, some small bookshelves and a lone desk. He'd noticed (as he always does) that Dani hadn't lived in her room and only used it as a place to keep the things we gave her. He suggested we accommodate her differently, with a place she could actually use.

So we moved a bed up here similar to Damian's, who preferred hard mats to beds as well, along with a dresser and armoire for clothes. The bookshelves stayed, but were filled with books varying in subjects, since Dani found interest in random things at random times. I also put a stereo system and a record player in the room, knowing Dani's untapped love for music. Across from the couch we'd arranged by the window is an entertainment system with every video game I could find.

But the main reason I'd agreed with Alfred had been the skylights.

It is no secret that Dani enjoys the sky. Whether it be at night for the stars or during the day for the sunshine, she was always watching it. Wayne Manor is just far enough outside the city that the clouds thin enough to allow stars to show through, which Dani often took advantage of during the night.

I flip off the light and flick the switch allowing the ceiling to retreat. This is the main reason the room existed as a study, though no one ever used it. Everyone in the Manor preferred (or were at least accustomed to) caves and other dark areas.

Dani's eyes grow wide at the new sight, letting out a soft "whoa". The room is almost completely open now, and Dani wanders around, a dark shadow. "This is amazing," she breathes, and I let out a soft laugh.

"Thought you'd like it."

"I love it," she corrects.

"The windows blacken," I tell her, even though I doubt she was worrying about her privacy at the moment. "There's a control panel near the window."

"I can't believe you did this." Her tone is still full of awed wonder.

"Of course," I respond immediately. "I've been busy, but I haven't forgotten you. I know you've traveled for who-knows-how-long and that staying here would be a huge adjustment. I also know you don't want to take advantage of staying here, and that you don't want to overstep, but you should know that you aren't. You aren't a _guest_, Dani. You're family."

Her figure stops moving and I can imagine her blue eyes fixing on me. "I've never had a family before," she answers after a long pause. Her voice is soft, but I can sense the importance of her words behind the volume. "I mean, I have my cousin…" She sighs, stopping herself. "My brother," she corrects finally. "He's family. I've never had a family except for you and him and Alfred and Damian. And Tim, once he lets me push him off a cliff so I can see him fly."

I ignore the last comment and focus on the small revelation from her past. Her brother? Or her cousin? Is he a cousin that's so close he's her brother? It's not like it could be the other way around.

I wait for her to continue, but she doesn't. "Is that who I remind you of?" I ask finally, wishing she would elaborate more but not blaming her for falling silent.

"Yeah." I can hear the smile in her voice. "But you're also so different." She sighs softly, her head tilting back up to the sky. "I miss him."

I thought she said she'd never lost anyone. I'd never known her to lie. She's been evasive, been cryptic, but she's never outright lied. At least, I don't think so. "I thought…"

"You think a lot of things." The bite in her voice is back, but not maliciously. "But before you ask, no, he's not dead. We just don't have contact with each other."

"I can get you a cell phone," I suggest.

"I don't want you guys tracking him down," she responds immediately. "He's a good guy, Dick… But he has a lot of things he doesn't want dug up."

The way she keeps secrets now makes perfect sense. She doesn't act traumatized. She doesn't act like she's running from something. She doesn't act shifty, like she's trying to keep something from us. She's protecting someone else; someone she used to regard as her only family. But I can't shy away from the uneasiness I feel when she suggests he has something to hide. Lots of people are good people, and they still do bad things.

"Stop," she snaps suddenly, and she walks over to the light switch and flips it back on. Her eyes are blazing.

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending you know what I'm talking about. Stop making assumptions."

I shrug helplessly and she scoffs, running her hand through her hair.

"You got your moment of truth." She groans, frustrated. "It's not like I _like_ keeping stuff from you guys! It's not like they're deep and dark and going to end up hurting you guys!"

"We don't think that," I attempt to placate her, holding my hands up in surrender.

"But you _do_," she wails, her hands still frantically running through her hair. "I trust you guys! Dick, I _trust_ you."

"I know, I trust you too!"

But she doesn't acknowledge me. She paces again, tugging her ponytail. I watch her, trying to transmit without words that I'm not trying to pressure her.

Finally, with a huff, she stops pacing and tucks her hands in her pockets, looking up at the stars once more. "I trust him as much as I trust you." She fixes me with her fiery blue eyes, gaze resolute, decided. "I'd even trust him with _your _secret" her tone pleads for me to understand "but that doesn't mean I'll tell him."

"You don't _have_ to tell me anything, Dani. It's _never_ been a question of trust. I was just trying to get to know you."

Her desperate expression slips away, and she allows a small, sincere smile. It's the most genuine smile I've ever seen from her, not that the others were fake. "You've always known me," she insists, "Even if you don't know everything about me."

She wanders over to the TV, picking up a video game controller and waving another at me. "Moment over. Video games?" The tension finally gone, I nod and move to join her as she picks the game.

"Soooo," I tease her, causing her to glare, daring me to start something again. It was definitely the heaviest conversation we'd ever had, and while I'd been wanting to have it, I now wanted to erase it from my short-term memory. "How old are you?"

She pauses in her search. Confused, I look at her body language and her furrowed eyebrows.

A laugh of disbelief bursts out of me, causing her to glare again. "You don't _know_?"

"I know," she snaps. "Uuuuuummm… Don't look at me like that! What month is it?"

"It's the 17th of August." I try to conceal the mirth in my tone but know I failed.

"I am fifteen," she tries slowly, a crease still on her forehead. She glares at my expression. "Shut up! The years all blur together."

I chuckle, mentally changing her age from 14 to 15. She must've just turned 15 recently, right? "What's your birthday?"

She rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to the video game. "I'm limiting you. One question a day; baby steps."

"And it has nothing to do with the fact that you have no idea what your birthday is?"

Dani's face pinks at the cheekbones in embarrassment. "Guess you'll find out tomorrow, won't you?"

I laugh, settling back into the couch.

She totally doesn't know.

* * *

**Penny for your thoughts ;)**

**Also, I was thinking about having a little thing between Dani and Arsenal (Roy Harper from the Young Justice arc, since he'd be about her age at this time). Nothing too shippy, just like Zatanna and Robin in the first season of Young Justice. Dani's almost sixteen and I think it'd be cool, but I don't want to break up any canon ships. What do you guys think?**


	16. Chapter 16

"Move _around_ me," Damian snaps, twisting my arm again with practiced ease and a bored expression.

Damian whined to Alfred about how bored he was just _one too many times_, leading to Alfred very _helpfully_ suggesting that Damian instruct me in fighting techniques.

Granted, I did ask Dick to teach me how to fight a few days ago, but I wanted _Dick_ to. Damian is mean.

As if to emphasize this, Damian sweeps my feet out from underneath me with one hooked foot; his upper body didn't even shift with the movement. To my credit, I manage to catch myself on the palms of my hands and pull my legs towards me into a crouch. He already swept my feet out from underneath me, and I was _not_ one to make the same mistake twice.

He gives a minuscule nod, turning to the weapon rack. "Warm-up over," he announces.

Him knocking me to the ground twelve times in twenty minutes was _warm-up_? How is that a warm-up? Shouldn't there be stretches or something?

Damian withdraws two practice swords (dull, but still _a freaking metal sword_) and tosses one half-hazardly to me. I barely catch the projectile, one hand on the hilt and the other on the blade. He narrows his eyes at the hand on the blade. "First lesson: don't catch the sword by the blade."

I throw the sword back to him like a javelin, deliberately blade first. He sidesteps, allowing the blade to pass him before grabbing its hilt. He turns to me, a question in the crease between his eyebrows. What can I say? The condescension got to me.

"I don't fight with _weapons_," I condescend right back, like it's beneath me, instead of just a preference.

"Then what _do _you fight with? It can't be with skill." He replaces the swords on their rack, accepting that I would not be sparring with them today.

Ooooh, that was a good burn. Too good; I don't have a comeback. "I know that," I state petulantly, turning away. There's a too-quiet silence; I know Damian, and I know how this went down when he pinned me the seventh time. He had attacked when I turned my back, and he attacks now.

He goes to hook one of his legs around one of mine, upsetting my balance so his arm can come around my neck and help my back better acquaint itself with the training floor. When he tries this time, I anticipate and fall faster than he expected, grabbing his arm as it goes to hook around my neck three inches too high. One foot bending back to catch myself, I snatch his arm in the open air and twist around, finally _finally_ reversing our positions and twisting _his_ arm behind _his _back.

It only lasts about a second and a half; he rotates his shoulder and kicks backwards at my knees with perfect synchronization, ending with my back flush against the floor and a very sore kneecap. I sit up from my position, glaring at my knees for betraying me.

Damian, completely out of character, offers a hand.

I glance between it and his impassive face before reluctantly taking it, allowing him to help pull me to my feet. I raise an eyebrow at the gesture and silently question why.

"You learn," he praises shortly, but the compliment is short lived. "Fighting without weapons is a poor choice."

"Um… thanks? And I want to fight because I think it looks cool. I'm not going to dress up like a bird and go fight crime in the dead of night, so weapons are unnecessary."

Damian's heavy expression lightens with confusion. "I don't understand why Grayson brought you here if you aren't going to train."

"I think it's _because_ I don't want to train."

"So you have no interest in becoming a vigilante?" He says vigilante as a sort of compromise between hero, anti-hero, and villain; there are so many different affiliations.

I contemplate his question, thinking of how many heroes I've happened upon in my short three years. I'm the clone of one, I've met tons more, and I now live in a house full of them. It's not that I don't _want_ to be a hero, it's just a big decision. It's dedicating your entire life to thankless, selfless work. Everyone else's needs come before yours. The weight of the world is in every decision you make, until you die. I want to do good, but I need to make sure it's what _I_ want, regardless of my DNA.

"There are ways to do good other than being a hero," I reply evasively, noting it's the same thing I'd said to Dick. It's my crossroads motto. I haven't made a decision off the reasoning that I am technically only three years old. When I'm older and have seen all there is to see, I'll decide. When I've finished creating a person outside of my DNA source. Later. When I'm older.

With a slight tilt of his head, Damian regards me curiously. "Doing good is what makes you a hero."

Surprised by his words, I allow, "Maybe one day, then."

He nods, maybe, _almost _smiling.

Before the bonding moment can really get going, shouting can be heard from a couple floors above us. Damian glances towards the voices once before moving towards the pole, but I block him. Holding a finger to my lips and gesturing up, I silently promote eavesdropping. Agreeing, he nods, inclining his head to their voices.

From what I can tell, Dick and Tim are fighting over a pending Gotham alert and a Justice League thing. Tim is adamant about going to the League while Dick argues he'd be better suited for the League mission and Tim is needed here.

"I'm not working with the demon spawn!" Tim roars, clearly very upset. Damian's frown morphs into a snarl.

"You don't _have_ to work with him! Just take care of it yourself and if you're about to die, Damian can hop in. I _have_ to go to this. Technically, I'm Batman right now."

"I _need_ to be there," Tim pleads.

"I need someone here!"

"Someone else!"

"WHO?"

Their fighting volume declines as Tim finally listens to Dick's reason. I look to Damian for answers, but he waves me off with a vague, "League mission."

As if I didn't hear that.

Damian's watch flashes twice as Dick summons him, and he answers it by sidestepping me to get to the pole. I follow up after him, reaching the platform as he strides up to Dick and flat out refuses to work with Tim.

Dick gruffly tells them to deal with it-saying a couple things about "growing up" and "hero's responsibility"-before pulling the cowl of his uniform over his head and striding away from them. He waves with a smile at me, which quickly fades into a mask of impassiveness as he moves past.

I watch him disappear inside the beautiful lights of the Zeta Beam. "So what are you guys going to be-" I turn to the other brothers, but they're both gone.

I look to Alfred, who'd snuck down here at some point during Tim and Damian's brief argument. "Everyone here sucks."

He offers me a glass of lemonade from the collection on his platter and takes one himself. "An accurate assessment."

We toast to that.

* * *

_Beep. Beep._

Lazily, my eyes open.

It's around four-thirty in the morning, according to the Bat-clock, and I'm nestled in front of the Batcomputer with a blanket thrown over me. I step from the chair to yawn and stretch, sending the blanket to the floor. I'd been watching the many programs run on the computer when I fell asleep, waiting for the brothers to return. I look for them now, and am surprised to find the Cave empty.

Alfred usually sleeps at this hour; 3-7 if no one has injuries. Tim and Damian only sleep in the late afternoon, though. Shouldn't they be back from their mission six hours later?

I return to the Batcomputer, scanning the screens for any missed transmissions.

_Now_ I remember the beeping that had roused me.

**backup**, reads one from "RR"; Red Robin.

**now**, says another, three minutes later.

**its jason**

**battwqeqet**

Well… that can't be good. All the vital signs from both Damian and Tim are shut off (not dead, I don't think?) and the only thing transmitting is their tracking signal. Something-or someone-is blocking everything their suits set off, _except_ their tracking. Such an obvious, _in your face_ trap.

I memorize the streets before I know what I'm doing.

I jog towards the transportation area, knowing, _knowing_ how bad an idea this is. I have zero intention of using my powers for this, and would rather avoid ending up in the middle of a superhero flex battle from any other hero that might show up. There are few skills I have for this kind of operation (barring from the powers I'm _not_ going to use), and as I said before, I don't fight with weapons.

I swear if I end up getting kidnapped…

I mean, I'll be pissed, but there won't be much I can do to complain, because this is _so stupid_.

Choosing one of the smaller motorcycles, I click on a helmet and start up the engine. I've only driven a motorcycle a few times and had loved every time, but that didn't stop the heart-stopping terror of its acceleration.

The bike has an embedded touch-screen, which I toy with hesitantly while driving (texting and driving is obviously a non-issue with this family). I put the bike in semi-automatic control, hoping it'll save me some painful collisions. To my relief, it opens the tunnel's door and swerves whenever it deems me too close to something.

I key in my destination while praying to the Ancients that I won't slam into a brick wall or another car at the speeds I'm going.

Luckily Batman is as good a designer of motorcycles as he is a detective, because I end up at my destination without dying painfully. I take in the unremarkable building in front of me, giving myself one more chance to recount how idiotic I am.

How can I be so dumb?

But Jason _is_ one of the brothers, isn't he? Dick talks about him like he's misguided, not evil. He wouldn't hurt me. Actually, I have no idea what he would and wouldn't do. I've never met the guy; he could be Satan. To be more accurate, he _can't_ hurt me. Not really.

Okay. No weapons, no backup, _definitely_ no powers, and no plan.

...

I've totally got this.

Since it apparently makes all my decisions, I let my impulsivity and idiocy take control and lead me forward. My rational brain, calling reason a lost cause, does the other little things; taking off the helmet, squaring my shoulders, and walking steadily, right through the rusted gates and the even rustier doors. So easy to get in, _such_ a trap.

Dead silence.

No, not silent. There's a wheeze of air, the turn of a fan, and the steady drop of liquid on metal. I continue forward, looking around for signs of life or struggle, trying to squelch the rising uneasiness inside of me. No. If I'm going to be _this_ stupid, I'm going to be all in.

Walking silently, I pass underneath an overhang and enter into a cavernous room. The voice comes from above and behind me; curious, wary. "I've never seen you around before." Frozen in fear for only a moment, I turn around to take my first look at the only Robin I haven't met, looking up to see a twisted sort of Batman.

The suit is almost the same as Dick's-with the exception of a couple color differentials-but the posture, the smirk... they're all wrong. Looking him over only once, I address him with a tilt of my head. Then, dismissively, I turn away from him and look around for Robin and Red Robin.

Noticing drips of blood, I look up to see that Robin is suspended above me by his feet, arms in a bloodied straitjacket and a livid face stuffed with a gag. Red Robin's wings are broken and in a pile a ways to my left, with its owner nowhere in sight.

I'm ashamed to say my first response to that is disappointment.

"Don't ignore me," the impostor Batman snaps as the silence stretches on (except for Damian's muffled curses).

I face the Batman again, scrutinizing his position. "How do you get up there?"

He scoffs at my response. Then, with blinding speed, he hops over the railing and sails through the air, cape like bat wings in the air. Rising from the crouch he landed in, he towers over me. "Where's Dick?" he demands in a low voice.

Despite the situation, despite the immaturity, despite the humorless figure in front of me, a smirk forcibly climbs on my face and my eyes avert downwards for _just _a nanosecond.

I bite my lips to quell any humor trying to escape, but for some reason it's just too funny. Laughter bubbles in my throat and, horrified, I stuff a fist in my mouth. Then I shake my head at him to answer his question.

"Are you… laughing?"

The bewilderment in his tone only feeds my laughter, and it snakes out around my hand. The impostor Batman looks at me with utter shock, as if he can't understand how this is happening. Before he can find more words, a clang draws our attention up. Tim, shaky and also bloodied, groans as he pulls himself to a standing position.

"Dani," he slurs, gesturing widely in my direction, obviously drugged. "Get awaaaaay-" He trips on nothing, even standing still, and falls heavily on the railing with his forearms.

I turn back to Jason, hiding my mouth with my hand and whispering conspiratorially, "I think Tim hasn't had his coffee yet."

Impostor Batman leans back, putting space between us. "What?"

"Coffee? It's basically Tim's..." I cut off, waving aside the weak joke. I'm defaulting to my banter defense, as nervous as I am with a rogue bat and two Robins incapacitated. Jason obviously didn't understand. Trying a different tactic, I stick out a hand. "I'm Dani. With an i."

He looks at my hand, completely lost. "Who _are_ you?"

I withdraw my hand and twirl it in a circle. "Rewind." I stick my hand out again. "I'm Dani. With an i. That's D-A-N-I." He does nothing. No hand, no words. "Jason, right?" I try to keep my tone light, but a traitorous note of concern slips in.

Jason jerks from his stupor and steps back. "You _are_ a bat. Unbelievable. Dick's doing what Bruce did. Black hair, blue eyes. The cycle never ends." He sounds disgusted, but also… betrayed. Didn't Dick say something about how every Robin so far had taken great offense whenever replaced?

"I'm not a bat," I argue, letting my hand fall. "And I'm _not_ a hero."

Jason glares. I think. The mask, you know. "You're just a civilian?" I shrug with a half nod. "Then leave, before I _make you_." His colored tone drops back into darkness, as if he'd just remembered that he is supposed to be Batman.

"You can't make me do anything," I sass, and immediately wish I hadn't.

He launches forward, grabbing me around the waist with one arm and lifting the other. Damian gives a shout and Tim struggles with his body again, but that's all lost as Jason's grappling hook deploys and we're shooting into the sky. I reach my hand into his belt and grab a bunch of random items, a good enough pickpocket that he doesn't even notice. I slide them down my sleeve and hold it level so its contents don't tumble out.

Jason drops me on a building nearby and cuffs me to a pipe before I can gather my bearings enough to scramble to my feet. With one more weirded out look, he's gone as quickly as he came. I tug my hands, which are cuffed together and to the pipe, just like my feet. With an annoyed huff, I phase through both.

Handcuffs free from my hands, I push their mechanism inward until it resets, open like I'd picked them normally. That done, I face the building I'd been _escorted_ from. Okay. Let's try this again. I pocket all the capsules and batarang things I'd stolen from the belt and ride down the fire escape.

Five minutes later, I'm exactly where I was ten minutes before. I stroll in, just like before, but this time on the second floor. I know how to be silent, being half-ghost and all, and I end up right behind Jason without being noticed. Don't give me too much credit; his taunts of Damian mask my steps.

"Miss me?" I ask his back.

He whirls around, fists clenching and hand going to his belt. "I tried to be nice," he growls, deep in his throat, but he doesn't withdraw anything yet.

"So now what?" I gesture beyond him to Damian, who's struggling to see me around Batman, and Tim, who's struggling to stand. "You stop playing nice and beat me into submission? Not going to happen. Or you would've done so in the first place." My humor, while still simmering below the surface, is masked by a heavy layer of firmness. Since he isn't going to take me seriously, I'm going to have to be serious.

Jason seems to reevaluate me. "Since you know me so well," he responds.

Ignoring the shivers down my spine at his sinister voice, I move past him, leaning my forearms on the rail and deliberately showing him my back. "I don't know you at all. But I was dumb enough to come here without backup, so I kinda have to hope you don't kill me, right?" Good, Dani. Appeal to his morals.

I give an awkward smile, knowing my gamble to be completely unfounded. He shouldn't know I don't have backup, but… I don't know. This whole ordeal just might kill me. I lock eyes with Damian, and his expression tells me the same thing.

"Are you another Robin?" This time he speaks with curiosity, though the change in tone is the only difference in his persona.

I smirk and point to my ever-present red beanie. "I'm Red-Capped Robin (that's the Australian Robin for you uneducated folk). My code name is RCR. I'm the 87th. Like all my predecessors, I have black hair, blue eyes, and only see the world in shades of white, black and red." I nod briskly at the end of my declaration, watching Damian balk from the corner of my eye.

Jason's face reflects something akin to twisted awe, and he joins me side-by-side at the railing. We watch Damian struggle like its a scenic sunset. "You're going to get yourself killed, kid."

"At least it'll be with a smile!" I chirp, emphasizing with a bright smile. He shakes his head. At least he's too amused/bewildered to cuff me again.

"What are you doing with this family?" His tone darkens as he jerks his head to the two brothers still struggling with their bonds. "They'll wipe that smile clean off your face."

I shrug, twisting my mouth up. "Food."

The edge of his mouth pulls up a fraction. "Sounds familiar." His twitch of a smile pulls back into a frown, more sad than angry this time. "Do you really not have a plan to rescue these two?"

"Besides asking you to let them go? Nope."

The sadness of his frown doesn't lift. "And if I say no?"

I contemplate this, having honestly not thought this far ahead. "Guess I just wait until Dick comes. But trust me, I can irritate you into submission long before that." He opens his mouth, but I continue. "And don't say you'll just expertly tie me up out of here, because I may not have assassin or techno skills, but I can escape anything you whip up. Then I'll come back here."

"You're ruling out drugs and a fight."

He says "a fight" like I could put one up. I wave that off. "You already promised you wouldn't touch me."

His tone darkens, warning me against assuming that. "No, I didn't."

Those shivers again. I play them off with a half-hearted, "Must be my wishful thinking then."

He snorts and falls silent, thinking.

I only wait a couple minutes, passing the short time by playing the blinking game with Damian. He's funny for assuming I know Morse code; I blink randomly back. I know Jason is watching, trying to discern whether we're actually communicating or not. Finally, I break the silence. "Do you know what he's saying?"

This time, Jason has a real, amused smile. "He's trying to tell you to get Tim or call Dick, or get out of here."

"Was I saying anything?"

"Not even close. Except for a bunch of S.O.S.s."

I frown in disappointment. "It's the only code I know." I look at Damian, who looks beyond frustrated at me. "Also, I don't have a phone."

Jason looks at me incredulously. I think. Again, masks.

I shrug. "I lose them. Or I would, I guess, since I've never really had one. Besides, what would I use it for?"

Amusement colors his tone again. "In this case, you would use it to call Dick."

I wrinkle my nose at that. "Yeah, see, that just sounds wrong." Jason snorts a laugh. "Although his contact would be hilarious and his ringtone could be a male stripper theme song."

Jason laughs out loud this time. "You are too awesome, kid."

"Dani. With an i."

"With-an-i. Got it."

We fall silent again, watching as Tim tries to struggle over to us. "Are we actually going to just sit here waiting for Dick?" Jason asks, mask-eyes on Tim.

"_I'm_ not waiting for Dick. Maybe you are, I don't know."

He glances at me briefly. "One too many name jokes."

I scoff, flipping my bangs out of my way. "There can't be too many; there will never be enough." I pause for a moment to catch his smile before going on. "And to answer your question, I suppose that depends on why you're doing all" I wave around at the ominous warehouse "this."

He regards me, frown contemplating my request for an explanation. Decided, he shakes his head. "Sorry, With-an-i. Don't know you that well."

"Alright. I'll BS my way through this, too, then." With a small hop, I plant my feet on the railing. I think best when I move. With my arms out, I take a couple steps. Jason moves seamlessly with me, probably suspecting I'll fall. I appreciate him being willing to catch me. "I only know what Dick's told me. He said you were Robin, and because of that, you died. Then you came back from the dead, only to find that Bruce hadn't avenged your death." I look down at him, trying to judge if I offended him or not. "Do I have it right so far?"

He nods stiffly, and I continue on my walk.

"So you did this whole, 'kill Batman' thing. Lots of bad blood, for a long time, but to my understanding, weren't you guys room temp at the time of his death?"

His mouth hardens, and that small gesture speaks volumes. Tim and Damian are ruffled and drugged, but not too seriously injured. Jason hasn't made one move to hurt me. This isn't a villainous plot, it's Jason _grieving_.

"I don't have parents," I proclaim, trying to make my voice strong even as I want to bury that truth away. My walk around the room nears Tim, and I walk on regardless, Jason swerving to avoid his heap. "But I did have a foster father, of sorts." I pause in my walk, and Jason stops with me, frown questioning. "He was no good." I shake off my uneasiness-talking of Vlad-and move forward again.

"I was kind of a surrogate child for one he actually wanted, and he orchestrated this whole _scheme_-yes, scheme is the only word that works for what this was-where he could get his hands on this kid. Well, a lot of things happened after that, and the kid got pretty badly hurt. Still, he got himself and me out of that place. Later, when he got better, I asked why he didn't put that guy in jail."

I'm editing the story as I go, careful not to mention names or powers or the whole _cloning_ ordeal. "I couldn't fight against this guy myself. I don't even have a birth certificate. At the time, I was _twelve_. But this kid, he had pull. He could do what I couldn't." I focus on my feet, knowing how easy it could be for me to forget where I am and fall from the railing. "He said more people would be hurt if we outed the guy. He's pretty powerful, keeps a lot of things, if unethically, in check.

"But even more than that, they have this kind of… mutual destruction deal. If he outed the guy, they would both go down. I thought he was just being selfish. And it took a while to let go of that. I was really resentful, but…" I pause in my story again. "When we met, I was on the wrong side, but he was still with me anyway. He saved my life and gave me a kind of freedom I'd never known. He was willing to die for me before he even knew me.

"I was trying to pretend that he was on this other guy's side, but he was always on mine. I still don't understand myself why he won't do it, but I figure, he's done enough good to be a little selfish, don't you think?"

Jason's silent, whether because he's still trying to make sense of my words or because he's actually considering them I can't tell.

"I know that might not make the most sense in regards to your own situation, since I can never really understand the whole deal you went through. All I'm saying is, my kid is your Batman, in a loose sense. We're pretending there's a distance between us, that they can never understand, but in reality, they understand even better than us. They understand what _needs_ to happen, despite what we _want._ What happened to us will never happen again, or it won't until they're too dead to do anything about it, and those accountable will get what they deserve."

"Can you really be so sure?" Jason growls, deep and soft. "Bruce is dead. The Joker will _never _get what he deserves."

I tilt my head at his caustic tone. "It'll never feel that way to you. It'll never feel that way to me. You just have to focus on what's better than them. Which isn't really all that hard." I wink. "Would you listen to me if I had something to say about you?"

He's quiet for a moment. "I listened to your story, and that was pretty long."

I hum, focusing on my path again. "It was, wasn't it?" I gesture at the warehouse once again. "Jason, this isn't you. All this…" I wave up and down his Batman costume. "Isn't you. You're trying to prove yourself right; that Batman was doing it wrong. But he wasn't. You know that. You're just trying to justify his death." I roll my eyes. "Seriously, you guys and _justice._"

Jason has a genuine frown on his face, and I can tell he doesn't like what I'm saying. Still, I press on.

"You don't need to justify anything. You aren't Batman. You are your own form of hero. There's a name for it that I can't remember just now, but you know what I'm trying to say. Besides, there's no need to replace Bruce because it turns out he isn't dead."

Jason stops.

At the end of my rant, I hop down from the railing and face the stunned Batman.

"He's… what?"

I shrug. "Went back in time, apparently."

The picture of shock, I leave him to his processing and kneel beside a groaning Tim, who had given up trying to stand and was just laying there. I frown at his form and poke his face. Disoriented, he waves me off, widely missing me. Jason appears right behind me, and I look up at him. "He isn't dead."

"Bruce is alive?" he demands.

Tim makes a couple choking noises in his mouth, arm still floating around in the air. "Bat," he forces out.

I smile encouragingly. "That's right, Tim," I coo, and he struggles to get four of his fingers down on his airborne arm.

At that, I stand and face Jason, now commanding. "That's where Dick is now. We can tell you all we know, but now that we've established you aren't evil, we should really get these two" I point between the other bats "back to the Cave before Dick and Bruce get back. We can forget this happened, but we don't really have to because to my understanding they've both tried to kill each other and they're both still allowed in the Manor."

I can see the "no" on Jason's face and plant my hands on my hips. "Those are my conditions."

After a tense staring contest, his resolve drops and he nods, reaching behind his back. "Where's my…" He pauses and glares at me.

I glance down and then back up, straining an innocent smile. "Riiiight," I draw out, as if just remembering. "I took those…" I put my hand in my pocket and offer him back all the objects I'd taken. "You know, in case you tried to kill me." I keep smiling as he stoically takes the items back. Feeling like there's more to be said, I offer, "Master escape artist _and_ pickpocket, did I mention?"

Finally he relinquishes a smile, but that might've been because of Damian's enraged shout as his bonds were cut and he fell face first onto the floor below.

* * *

**I really like that chapter. I also really like Jason, so I'm making him a part of this story. **

**As always, I eagerly await your reviews!**


	17. Chapter 17

My communicator beeps urgently, though it only succeeds in wearing down my already thin patience. I silence it as the blinding gateway explodes into existence in front of me, a whirlpool of light and color. Without hesitation, I enter.

"Where are we at?" I demand as I exit the portal, acknowledging Phantom with a slight incline of my head. I hadn't known it would be him but let nothing-not the change of scenery, his presence nor the pressing matter at hand-distract me.

"Vanishing Point: the end of time," he responds ominously, allowing the portal to close as I step away from it. He's looking a little worse for wear; his hair is a tangled mess, dark shadows fall beneath his eyes and his suit is scratched and dirty. In the white belt around his waist, there's a scroll I'm assuming is the Infa-map.

"And the rest of the League?"

"Already fighting. This way." He gestures down the hallway we're standing in and starts flying down it. I follow at a sprint, cursing the cape for its annoying drag. As we cross the space, Phantom gives me a brief rundown of what's going on. "We followed Batman through time, but he was always a couple steps ahead of us. I think the map did it on purpose, honestly. Pesky, awesome thing."

"Phantom." He can get easily distracted, I'd realized, when he isn't actively fighting. Best to center him before he spiraled.

"Right. So we ended up here, eventually. The guy that 'killed' him actually infected him with something he calls the 'Omega Sanction'. He lost his memory but he has it back now. He used something called the Time Sphere to get everyone here so we can defeat something he calls the 'Hyper-Adapter'. It's been in every time period so far and only here can we touch it. It's powerful, though. We're going to need everyone."

"Good thing I'm here," I grunt, and we reach the end of the hallway. I kick open the double doors into a huge atrium, where I'm overwhelmed by the sheer amount of chaos. The full force of the League is here, barring a couple missings, and they're all going at this bat-like creature that looks just like Batman, but with tentacles and real wings.

I launch into the fight, feeling Phantom leave my side to catch an airborne Green Arrow. The creature is adapting to the might of the League, learning Superman's strength, Flash's speed, Green Lantern's concentration. In its tentacles it squeezes Black Canary, the other Green Lantern, Huntress and Zatanna (the edge of the tentacle wrapping around her mouth to keep it closed), only wasting its energy to squeeze those who can't resist.

With several flicks of my wrist, I send batarangs to protected areas of its body, simultaneously withdrawing a wicked sharp batarang and slicing through the tentacles. They're dense, but not dense enough. They release the members in its grasp and fall, lifeless, to the ground. Unfortunately, they regenerate.

I recognize the beast's pattern for isolating the League members in order to learn them, and shout out orders to retreat into a group. Relief and joy shoot through me when I hear my commands being echoed by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. But now is not the time.

As the beast comes at us as a whole, I shout to Phantom, "Shield, _now_!"

As the tentacles shoot forward, a glowing green shield materializes around us. The tentacles slam against it, causing Phantom to grunt and add more power. I repeat the command to the two Green Lanterns and Icon, who add their strength to Phantom's shield.

"It's studying us individually," I inform the League, "So we need to fight together. No one League member can add two consecutive attacks. Two or three members will get close and attack, two or more adding some long range from behind. Then we switch before it can catalogue. It's thinking like a computer, so we need to act heuristically."

"That'll only keep it confused," Bruce adds his experience, "We need to get it into the Time Sphere." I take only a couple instants to take in his strange attire: a black jumpsuit shot through with dark gray lines, continuing seamlessly into gloves and boots and ending with his neck. Barring his strange outfit, his face, hair and eyes are the same as they have been since I met him all those years ago. It's Bruce.

"Force it back?" Wonder Woman clarifies, simultaneously reeling me back in and studying the glowing mirror through the shields. I take it that's the Time Sphere. "That might prove difficult."

"What if I overshadow it?" Phantom grunts, still focused on the shield.

Bruce immediately shuts down the idea. "It's power runs off memories. Once it has them, we can't get them back."

Phantom smirks. "Yeah, I'd like to keep those."

"You're in no shape anyway," Superman interjects with finality. "You haven't been back to Amity since we left and haven't recharged."

Phantom groans, "But you don't have to _say_ it…"

"No, if all fails," Bruce announces, "I will allow it to possess me. My memories will come back. It's the Omega energy in me."

"We've been here too long," I worry, watching the tentacles regroup. "It's learned."

"Then let's move," Wonder Woman shouts. "For justice!"

Not waiting to see if anyone takes up her battle cry, she pulls out her sword and flies into the air, breaching the shields. As soon as the shields drop, the League scatters, all preparing attacks. Wonder Woman and the Flash go first, hitting hard high and low, respectively, as Huntress and Green Arrow fire their arrows.

Immediately after their attacks, they fall back and are replaced by Superman, Power Girl and Captain Marvel, who all add several incredible punches that knock the Adapter back. Phantom adds a powerful blast just as they retreat, blowing it back.

Not giving it any time to assess, Green Lantern and I fall in, peppering it with explosives and blasts. Zatanna shouts a fire spell that erupts as soon as we clear the tentacles.

We cycle through, adding more and more power until the entire League is forcing the monster back at once, forcing it towards the Time Sphere. After it's sufficiently disoriented, I shout above the noise, "TOGETHER!" The attacks fall back and the Adapter begins a reboot. Only for half a second, but it's plenty of time. "NOW!"

As one, the super strength heroes combine their forces, backed up by explosive, energy and electrified blasts from the other members, all forcing him back through the Time Sphere. It's enveloped in the light, screeching, and the League falls back.

Phantom is suddenly at my shoulder, urgently telling me something. I don't hear, focusing on the creature and the solitary figure running towards it. From the midst of all the other heroes, Bruce launches at him, entering the Time Sphere as well.

Before I can shout out to him, the Sphere erupts, momentarily blinding me. Blinding everyone.

The screech of the Adapter is suddenly gone, leaving confused chatter as everyone clears their vision. When mine refocuses, I find myself in the Watchtower, surrounded by the League. "Bruce!" I shout, silencing the other members.

"Here," responds Superman, and I stride briskly over to his voice, the other heroes moving aside to let me through. Bruce is on the ground, eyes glowing brightly. "He's trying to talk."

I hold up one hand and every noise ceases. Bruce struggles around heaves in his chest, "Stop… heart…" I shake my head, both not understanding and unwilling to kill him again. He glares at me through the light shining in his eyes. "Stop my… heart… Omega… energy through time… release… before kills me…"

Zatanna appears at my shoulder. "He needs to release the pent up energy he's been gathering. We need to stop his heart."

I look at the members that had gathered. "I need adenosine and epinephrine," I direct to the Flash when I see him. "It's in the med-bay. Now."

He blinks out and returns with a syringe in each hand. "Black Lightning, I need you on standby as an AED. Black Canary, you're doing compressions. Zatanna, Doctor Fate, can mystics help keep him viable for resuscitation?"

They look at each other, then at me. "Not for long," Zatanna allows.

"Long enough," I respond. "Hypothermia will help. Phantom."

There's no response. When I get none, I look up from Bruce, searching those surrounding me. "Phantom?" Superman echoes.

I swear, remembering Phantom's urgent words as Bruce rushed into the Sphere. I can't recall what he _said_, but recall my brief connection with the word "go". As in, "I have to go." Phantom left. "He's not here," I grit out.

"Fine…" Bruce forces out, trying to speed us along. "Works without him…"

"Okay." I hold out my hand to Flash and get the syringe, carefully checking for air bubbles before holding down Bruce's shaking arm.

"No… Heart…"

Catching his meaning, I hesitate only for a moment before plunging the syringe directly into his heart and releasing the plunger. Bruce groans and his limbs flail of their own accord, jerking and twitching. I step back, gesturing the League to do so as well. Bruce heaves a few more times before falling still.

I glance to Superman. "No heartbeat," he confirms, worry clouding his eyes.

Bruce jerks once, followed by a burst of orange-white energy. It dissipates quickly, soon followed by another burst and another.

The energy bursts gradually decrease in power, slowly, until stopping six minutes after Bruce's cardiac arrest. After fifteen seconds of no other energy burst, I gesture to Black Lightning and the Flash. "Begin compressions, BC."

Black Canary kneels beside Bruce and starts pumping his heart. When I count thirty, I gesture to Black Lightning. "Now."

Black Canary leans back as Black Lightning shocks Bruce with his hands. Black Lightning steps back as I approach and gesture to Flash. "Epi."

Once I inject Bruce with the epi, the cycle repeats. Compressions, shocks. The time worries me, seeming to stretch on, though it'd only been a few minutes longer. I felt like _my_ heart was going to stop.

"It's beating," Superman decrees after the sixth cycle.

The air thick with anticipation, we step back and watch as Bruce slowly returns to life. His skin flushes with blood again, and his eyes open. He jackknifes, coughing violently, and I rush in to help him.

Without any prior warning, Phantom phases through one of the walls and crashes onto the ground. Wordlessly, the League watch him scramble to his feet. His eyes dart around, landing on Bruce and I for a second before resuming his search. I stand. "What is it?"

He doesn't respond, scanning the room and slowly rising to his feet. His aura is dimmer than when I last saw him, and his hover is only a few inches off the ground.

"Where were you?!" Wonder Woman demands, stepping forward. I stand fully, preparing to step between them.

Phantom glances at her and then at me. "I told Batman…"

"That you were abandoning the League?!"

His eyes widen a fraction and he raises his hands placatingly. "I wasn't abandoning the League! I felt a ghost!"

Wonder Woman's gaze doesn't soften in the slightest. I decide this is a good time to deescalate the situation, stepping between them and looking to Phantom. "Did you get it?"

"Him," he corrects immediately, and looks down. "And no. This ghost, Plasmius… He's older and more powerful than I am. But I managed to stop him from getting to the Time Sphere. We were fighting and he got ahold of the Infa-map…" His hand moves to rest protectively on the Infa-map, still tucked into his belt. "We fought for it and the conflicting commands brought us here. He got confused and I got the map back and forced him back inside the portal before it closed."

"You ordered the map here?" I ask, voice dark.

"No, no, I ordered it to this time period's Ghost Zone. _He_ was the one who wanted to be here. We slipped into the Zone and then here, so he's probably stuck there for now."

Reluctantly, Wonder Woman stands down, accepting his explanation. I nod once, letting him know I do as well. "You can mark up a full report later," I tell him. "For now, head back to Amity Park. You're looking a little worse for wear."

He offers a faint, amused smile. "Yeah, I know. Day's not even over yet." He floats a little to the left, looking at Bruce, who's being helped to his feet by Superman. "Good to see you back, Bats."

Bruce offers a still-handed wave. Phantom salutes to the League and withdraws the map, pulling it apart and commanding it, "Far Frozen!"

It pulses with purple light and both it and Phantom vanish.

"I think that goes for the rest of you guys, too," I address the League. "We can report this later." I walk up to Bruce and pull off the cowl, looking at him eye to eye. "It's good to have you back, Bruce."

He nods, a small smile flitting across his mouth. "Let's go home."

I let Superman pass Bruce to me, supporting part of his weight. He did die for a few minutes; even the great Batman can't walk that off. We pass through the League and head to the Beams, walking slowly but steadily.

"Oh, by the way," I forewarn as the Beam announces our codes. "I might've brought someone in from Bludhaven… I hope you don't mind."

He looks to me with amusement. "You adopted someone?"

"Well…" We transport then, leaving my response open for a moment. We appear back in the BatCave, greeted by the dim lighting and echoing chambers. "I didn't adopt her… But she is staying here."

"Does she know?" Bruce asks, but I don't get the chance to respond, because we're interrupted by Alfred rushing forward from the stairway and embracing Bruce tightly. Bruce laughs painfully, returning the hug best he can. "Good to see you, too, Alfred!"

Alfred releases him when he grunts in pain, observing him sharply. "And what did you manage to do this time, Master Bruce?"

"He died for a few minutes," I offer. "We had to stop his heart to keep the Omega Sanction from killing him."

"I'm not sure what you mean by 'Omega Sanction', Master Dick, but if it's not killing him now I can't say I care." He gestures to the stairwell. "Let's get you to bed, Master Bruce."

"Wait," Bruce interrupts as Alfred goes to his other side. "I want to see Damian and Tim." He directs the request at both of us; I give a helpless shrug and Alfred looks uncomfortable. Before either of us can question his reluctance, Bruce's request is answered by someone else.

"They're occupied," comes Dani's voice from the stairwell. Her hair is wet, like she just took a shower, and she twirls a wet strand in her fingers absentmindedly as she descends the steps.

I suddenly remember the mission I'd sent them on, and my eyes dart to the hall leading to the medbay. "Are they okay?"

She waves it off, her eyes dancing in amusement. "They'll be fine. They're sleeping off the drugs."

Bruce stiffens beside me. I hurriedly interject before he can interrogate Dani. "Sorry. What happened?"

She gives me a cryptic smile. "The things that can happen in one night…" Dani flicks the strand she'd been playing with behind her shoulder. "By the way, Jason's staying here for a little while."

I search the mischief in her gaze and sigh at her antics. "Can you please tell us what happened?"

She hums. "Okay. So Jason was playing impostor Batman and kidnapped Tim and Damian and then drugged them. I didn't know where you were so I went after them myself. Then I hung out with Jason for a while and we did this whole deep-personal-talk thing, and he agreed that he was just grieving his dad's death and we all came back here to await your guys's arrival."

Dani beams, proud of herself.

"...WHAT?"

She blinks at my outburst and folds her arms. I barely recognize the defensive stare she fixes me with, too busy imagining what happened or, even worse, what _could've_ happened. "The Batman… Dani, do you know how _dangerous_ he is?!"

Dani sighs when she realizes I'm not going to calmly take this. "_Was _dangerous. It was Jason!"

I can't see why this is a good thing. All I can see is the brutality with which this Batman took down criminals; the traps he set for us, the mocking tone in his voice, the _guns_. I leave Batman's side and go to stand in front of her. "You went against him by yourself? He's a killer!"

She looks up at me in defiance. "Really? You weren't saying that when you told me about him!"

"I told you he went over to the other side," I refute, still burning with anger and worry. "Where's your sense of self-preservation? You keep telling us you _aren't_ a hero. You can't _do_ things like this! You got lucky Jason didn't shoot you in the head."

"Are you kidding me, Dick?"

Jason enters the conversation, coming out of the medbay hall, wiping his hands on a white rag. I turn to him, furious. "What am I supposed to assume?"

"You could not assume at all," Dani bites back, reminding me of our other conversation. This doesn't shake me from my anger, though.

"I'm looking at the facts," I snap. "He kills, and you don't have a _week_ of proper training. You're defenseless, and I won't have you-"

"Too bad _you're_ not the boss of _me_!" she shouts, eyes blazing. She turns on her heel, stomping back to the stairs. I catch the nearly imperceptible shake of her hands and the tensing of her shoulders and move to follow, but Jason steps in front of me. Without thinking, I throw a clumsy punch at his jaw and Jason catches it in his palm, face dark.

"Do you _honestly_ believe I would shoot a girl in the face?" he snarls, dropping my fist. "We may have different ways of doing things, _Dick_, but I'm not a _monster_."

"Tell me what you did to Damian and Tim and then we can talk," I respond in the same tone.

"I see things haven't changed," Bruce uncharacteristically quips from behind us. We both ignore him, focused on each other.

I shove Jason aside, but he moves in front of me again. "Get _out_ of my _way_."

He narrows his eyes and raises his fists, ready for a fight. "Let With-an-i be. You scared her."

My own fists, which had come up in case Jason threw one of his own, suddenly drop. I feel a different emotion smash down on top of all the rage and worry, filling me with something else I can't quite place. "What?"

He gestures with his head towards the stairs. "It was part of our kumbaya talk. The person she lived with before you, he scared her. I think you might've reminded her of him for a second."

My anger deflates completely, and I now place what's filling me now. Horror, regret. The need to talk to her, to apologize, is so sudden and so intense, I almost miss what Jason says next.

"I've never met anything like her, gotta say. She knew me before she ever even met me, strolling in like she owned the place. I tried to get her out of the way, but she was back in _minutes_... _And _she picked my belt!" He laughs softly, shaking his head. "Let her be for a little while. She's kind of awesome; she'll be fine."

After that, he leaves his post in front of me and approaches Bruce, but his voice is now in the back of my mind.

A couple moments pass, my head swirling, until I reboot my thoughts and head to change out of the Batman uniform.

For the next few hours, I check up on Damian and Tim, who're recovering from their inebriation smoothly and are ecstatic when they discover Bruce is not only alive, but back in the Manor. They also laughingly tell their own views of Dani's rescue. Damian in particular recounts the degree of frustration he was in when trying to communicate with her.

By that evening, I finally make my way to Dani's room, convinced I would otherwise go crazy with the building apology.

Her room doesn't have a door, because there's one at the bottom of the steps, but I knock on the wall anyway, softly calling her name.

When there's no response, I enter anyway, flipping on the light.

Empty. I give the room a once over, checking to see if I'd missed her first glance, but only see a half sheet of paper laid on her unmade bed.

Crap. Crap.

I reach the paper and unfold it.

_DICK_ it reads in big, angry letters, blurring the line between my name and _a_ name.

_I'll be back. When you chill._

_~Your employee_

I swear, crumpling the letter.

Crap.

* * *

**Sorry for the short delay; Comic Con and a busy spring break. Plus, I haven't finished the next chapter yet (Whoops) and wanted to buy myself from time. This chapter introduces the first conflict between Dani and Dick-not that there will be too many more. **

**Also! Thank you so much for all the comments! I got what, 13, 14? Doubled all the other chapters' totals! Some responses: **

**I feel the same way about romances in DC. If I introduce one (still so-so at this point) it will be like Connor and M'gann's in season one of Young Justice. I still don't understand the whole "you tried to destroy my mind so now we're over" thing. Nothing but unnecessary angst. I'm a firm believer that innocent romances can exist.**

**Danny will be making an appearance in the next chapter, which will clear up a lot of what he's doing off in Amity. **

**Finally, the main plot is already in action. It'll take a while to finish, though, because I have a loooot of stuff I need to fit inside. There's just so much to do with Dani!**


	18. Chapter 18

"What's up?"

Danny and Sam startle apart, faces going red and stammering excuses that don't make any sense. I ignore this, going to Danny's closet and picking out a comic book. "Hey, it's Dani," Danny stutters, still blushing furiously. "Not my parents. Phew."

"Your door _is_ locked," Sam observes, face cooling to a soft pink as she watches me collapse in Danny's desk chair. I open the book, ignoring the both readily.

"What are you doing here?" Danny asks, standing from the bed and ruffling his hair.

"I came for the comic books," I grunt, turning a page without seeing it. "And the free make out show, apparently. When did you two get together?"

Danny coughs, embarrassed. Seeing him this flustered gives me great pleasure, but I'm still too pissed to tease them.

Sam answers, "A little over a month ago. It's been a while since we've seen you." She's trying not to linger on the experience of a few moments ago, working instead to turn the conversation towards me.

"Yeah, I know." I don't want the conversation on me.

"Where've you been?" Danny attempts.

"I'm _not_ in the mood for talking, so why don't you guys go back to whatever you were doing and I'll keep reading this comic book."

"Yeah, okay, that's not happening," Sam grumbles, sounding more disappointed (ew) than defensive. I glance up briefly to see Danny's apologetic look. Disgusting teenagers.

"So…" he tries again.

"_Not_ in the mood."

Danny quiets, looking at Sam with a bewildered look. When he turns back to me, I return to staring at my comic book.

A heavy silence descends over the room and I glance up from my "reading" again to see them looking into each others' eyes. Danny has his arms around her waist and Sam has her hands clasped behind his head. I'm about interrupt, feeling uncomfortable, but miss my chance when they fall back on the bed, kissing noisily.

"Stop, stop!" I shriek, throwing my comic book at them. They laugh in response, letting go of each other, as I stand grumpily and fix Danny with a glare. He laughs when I throw another book I find nearby at him, phasing through it effortlessly.

"We will if you tell us what's wrong," he taunts, playing with a strand of Sam's hair. She folds her arms and smirks at me in victory.

I let out a heavy sigh, sitting back down on the chair. These are my happy people. I can tell them anything. Except, of course, everything that matters. I meant what I said to Dick; Danny's identity is secret from them, just like their secret is safe from him. So instead I tell him about meeting Dick, and staying with him, and returning to Gotham when his dad requested him back (I couldn't say he died, since Bruce Wayne had a stand in while the real one was "dead"). I then continue on about the brothers and the fight we had when Dick found I had went after Jason after he said I wasn't allowed.

Danny and Sam listen intently for the first while, but they grow more and more amused as the story goes on. They share secret smiles and stifle chuckles, all the while nodding and making sympathetic noises. Finally I break off, right in the middle of the rant, and yell "What?" at them.

"You live with Bruce Wayne?" Sam asks for clarification.

"With Dick, but kinda, yeah," I shout back.

She and Danny exchange a look and desperately try to stifle laughter.

"I'll kill you both," I warn, voice dark.

"No, it's just…" Danny glances at Sam and she shrugs helplessly. "Bruce Wayne… I heard he does some sketchy stuff at night." He suppresses another smile and I suddenly realize why he's trying not to laugh.

"Oh, you're on the League, duh." Of course it was a possibility that he would know Batman's identity, but I hadn't considered it, knowing I couldn't ask outright without being suspicious.

His eyes sparkle. "Are we talking about the same thing?"

"I live there. I kind of have to know." I sink lower in my seat, not sharing his enthusiasm.

"I don't know," Sam interjects, casting a smirk in Danny's direction. "You have some pretty clueless genes."

I can't suppress a small smile at that. "Yeah… And I only found out 'cause of this symbol I helped Dick unearth. Even then, it took me a hot sec."

Danny laughs. "And I only found out because the replacement Batman _told_ me."

I freeze, suddenly leaning in with wide eyes. "Wait, _Batman_?"

Danny's smile freezes. "You didn't-"

Sam elbows him. "She's messing with you." She turns back to me. "Now, re-edit your story and try again."

I nod, relenting, telling them the whole truth this time. Danny beams proudly when I tell him of my altercation with the impostor Batman, which is the reaction Dick _should've_ shown. I end with that, another rant of Dick's unfair reaction and his totally unnecessary anger.

"Grownups suck," Sam agrees. I high-five her sentiment.

"Okay, but he was just trying to keep you safe," Danny advocates for Dick. I glare at him for changing sides and he holds his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying; I'd do the same thing."

"And I'd be mad at you, too." With an air of finality, I fold my arms. "Besides. You wouldn't yell at me; you know me too well to make _that_ mistake."

"So Dick knows you that well?" Sam asks, feigning innocence at the question. "He knows your past, your clone status, your powers…"

"Of course not!" I snap. "I want to keep Danny's identity secret!"

While Sam grins at the victory of making her point, she then fixes Danny with a harsh glare, urging him to respond to my prompt.

Danny frowns at my words. Opens his mouth to respond, closes it when nothing comes out. Rubs his neck, thinking. Sam glares at him the longer he stays silent and answers for him. "You don't have to keep his identity a secret. They're your family."

He forces a weak smile, nodding.

The reaction leaves a slight sick feeling in my stomach, even as my resolve hardens. I narrow my eyes at the two of them and state resolutely, "They're also the _Bat_family; the greatest detectives in the world and members of the Justice League. Even if you gave me permission to tell them, I wouldn't anyway. It's obvious you don't want them to know."

Sam glares at Danny, and he holds up his hands helplessly in a shrug. "I really don't. I'm sorry."

She smacks his shoulder. "But they're-"

"Hey, it's my decision!" I interrupt. "And I don't want them to know anyway. I'm not ready to be a hero, and that's exactly what they'd make me as soon as I walked through the first wall. Dick already says he trusts me, secrets or no, so I don't _have _to tell him. I have nothing to gain and a lot to lose; _t__hat_'s my first reason. Danny's is just a big second."

Sam relents, and Danny's eyes are huge with gratitude.

I lean back in Danny's chair, beginning a new topic. "Do you love being in the League? How do you have time for everything else?"

His eyes sparkle. "I _love_ it. I'm a ghost, so technically the federal laws don't apply to me, so the League uses me to circumvent a lot of the regulations the governments have on them. They've been trying to pass the laws, but my parents, as the leading experts in ectology, keep messing it up with conflicting research. It's actually kind of funny how frustrating it is for them.

"And yeah, with all my time spent in the League and protecting Amity here, something had to give. So I chose school and graduated a year early." He gestures to the computer behind me. "I took online courses in order to pass all the failed classes I had my freshman, sophomore and junior years, and since I had to finish those to be a League member…" He snaps his fingers. "I finished them just like that."

"I graduated early, too," Sam offers. "As did Tucker. We're going to go to the college Danny's parents set up."

"Hold up, there's a college?"

Danny nods and crosses the room to dig through his closet, coming up with a couple white t-shirts with the Fenton logo on them. "Fenton University," he announces proudly. "My parents sold their inventions to several huge companies and patented tons more, and they set up the U with the money." He holds one out to me and I gladly accept it, phasing into it and letting my sweat shirt fall in my lap.

It's my new favorite shirt; I think it's ironic.

Sam smirks at my change. "We're all going there. The semester started last week."

I look at Danny. "How do you have time for that? Also, I thought you wanted to be an astronaut."

A brief frown flickers across his face. "I don't think that will happen." He holds up a hand when I begin to protest. "Not in the way I want it to, probably not ever. I would have to leave for an undetermined amount of time. From the city, from the world. It would hurt too much to be away for that long."

He gives me a hopeful smile. "But that doesn't mean I won't be in space. I'm there at least three times a week, and then there are the intergalactic missions that the League goes on…" He looks faraway, daydreaming. "I may not be studying in space, but at least I'm there."

"Why are you in space so much?"

He frowns and glances at the window. "Right. That's not common knowledge. The League HQ is an orbiting satellite."

He moves to continue fangirling, but I wave my hands rapidly to stop him. "Whoa, whoa. Bombshell. Explain."

Danny offers a half-shrug. "Sorry. League business."

I roll my eyes and fall back into the seat again. "Fine. What are you studying instead?"

"Ecto-Engineering," Danny replies, sarcastic with the name. "Mechanics, machinery. I have a knack for inventing. Who knew." Sam snickers. "It's like a ghost technology degree, with a side emphasis in astrophysics and astronomy." I frown, vicariously feeling the disappointment Danny must've had when his astronaut dreams were crushed. "Hey, don't go feeling sad for me. This is my new dream. Life happens; you have to adapt."

"I'm not going to be an environmental lawyer anymore," Sam adds, looking just as excited as Danny. "I'm going into ecto-biology and combat. Plants and fighting; two of my favorite things." She frowns at her own words and quickly amends, "I'm still a pacifist though."

"What about Tucker?"

Danny answers, "Computer technology and politics."

"All these degrees are pretty random… What will you do with them? What _does_ someone do with an ectology degree?"

This time Sam picks up my questions. "FentonWorks is starting to expand. Other companies are adding ecto-research to their facilities, so graduates can go there. But Tucker and I? We're getting our degrees to help the ghost-fighting efforts." She grins wickedly. "The world is working to bring the Ghost Zone closer than ever to the living realm. If there are more portals, we need more forces on this side that can deal with the malicious ghosts coming through. We need diplomats, ambassadors, scientists. The three of us are..." She waves her hand, looking for a word. "Pioneers."

Danny watches her with fond amusement. When she notices, she fixes him with a light glare, and I find myself shipping them all over again. "When's the wedding?" I ask dreamily, laying my head in my palm and sighing.

Sam frowns and grabs a pillow to throw at me. I bat it away easily. It _is_ a pillow. "We're not even old enough to get married," Sam protests.

"A shame," Danny teases, flashing me a smirk. "It's the ultimate way to rebel against your parents."

Sam raises an eyebrow. "And that'll be the only reason?"

Danny shrugs. "Hey, whatever gets the yes."

I snicker at their banter, finding it equally disgusting and adorable how easily they discuss marriage, even if it's just a tease. I mean, I love the ship, but he _is_ still my brother/cousin/whatever-you-call-the-person-you're-a-clone-of. Danny breaks off from it quickly, though, turning back to me both physically and in conversation. "So. When are you headed back to Gotham?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I'm still pretty pissed off." Picking up a pencil from the desk, I twirl it in my fingers, thinking. "It got oppressive. I needed to leave to prove I could. But this is just going to make them even more angry. I don't really want to go back."

"Yeah, you do," Sam corrects me. "You wouldn't have settled down for the past few months just to leave for a stupid fight."

"Don't say that," Danny reprimands Sam when I start to respond. "She won't go back just to spite you." I grin, supporting his observation. "But, Dani, can't say I don't agree with her. If you really wanted to leave, you wouldn't have come here. You would have just left."

"Maybe," I allow, dangerously letting myself consider the possibility of never going back. Danny and Sam exchange glances and decide to interrupt this train of thought.

"Look, how about you hang with us for today and we can worry about this tonight?" Sam suggests, looking at Danny for confirmation. He tilts his head in a yes, standing. I do the same, mimicking him. "Alright then, food?"

* * *

It's late when I return to Wayne Manor, and I'm exhausted. Knowing full well that the residents were now fully aware of my presence, I climb up the side of the house instead of entering through the front doors, hoping they'd take the hint and let me get some rest.

Immediately after entering through the window, however, I realize my room is not as I left it. In my absence, it seems to have gained one particularly nosy butler. He's sitting, in the dark, sipping tea.

Joy.

"What, are you going to turn on a lamp?" I quip, closing the large window behind me.

"I was enjoying the view," he responds shortly, gesturing with his cup at the ceiling.

"Hn," I reply, kicking off my shoes and discarding them near the armoire. I try to keep the silence, hoping Alfred would answer without my needing to ask, but he just continues sipping his tea. _British butlers._ "On a scale of one to ten, how mad are they?"

I hear the cup getting set down on its saucer. "Quite the contrary, Miss Dani. No one is angry with you. They're glad you're home."

I don't buy that. Alfred probably had to force his way up here alone. "And that's why you're my greeting party instead of Dick?"

"He's a very familial person, Miss Dani. You must know it scares him to see his world colliding with you."

I sigh heavily, having already endured several speeches along the same lines from Danny and both his friends. They'd subtly slipped it into the conversation with everything we'd done; food, the movies, touring campus, testing inventions… I swear, half the reason I agreed to go back was because the passive-aggressive urging was getting _so annoying_. Which I'm sure was the point.

"Yeah, yeah, spare me the lecture. I know it was dumb, but it's not like I'll do it again! I know what could've happened, I know I won't be that lucky next time, blah blah blah. I get it. If I did it over again, I would've brought a cell phone."

"Very good, Miss Dani." Alfred stands, flicking on the light by the arm chair he'd been in. "That covers everything I was meant to lecture you about, so we can mark that done." I raise my eyebrows at him, curious. "Like I mentioned before; no one is angry with you. They are simply concerned for your well-being."

"'They,'" I quote, adding a question to the word.

Alfred allows a small smile. "You've managed to fell all four of them, which I must say is no small feat."

"Even Tim?"

Alfred nods.

"Huh. I thought he didn't like me because I keep trying to push him off of things."

"I'm sure if you asked him, he would be more accommodating."

"Where's the _fun_ in that?" I complain, finally releasing a smile. It falls soon, though, as I ask the next question I'd been worrying about. "Am I in trouble?" It's weird to ask, since I'm not really a part of this family. I mean, I am, but I can always leave. They don't have custody of me; should they really be allowed to punish me?

Alfred shakes his head once, but follows up with, "But Master Dick has requested a compromise."

"What kind of compromise?"

"I suggest you take it up with him, if you are… sufficiently composed?"

I raise an eyebrow at this, crossing my arms defensively. "Now I'm nervous," I accuse.

Alfred looks at me with that firm stare of his; the one I'd seen all four brothers concede to. I understand why as I relax my stance, giving up, though I don't understand how he did it. "The events of the other night has made it clear to Master Dick that you are incredibly important to him. He wishes to make your stay here as accommodating to you as it is safe; that is to say, to rectify the mistakes in both."

I roll my eyes. "I'm perfectly safe."

An arched eyebrow begins his response. "Even after decades in this household, serving men and women alike that can only be sanely classified as _suicidal_, I find your indifference to mortality frightening."

"Let me guess, Dick finds it frightening too?" I sigh again, not bothering to wait for a response. "Whatever. Where is he?"

"The Cave, miss."

"Thanks, Alfred." I turn to leave but pause just before reaching the stairs. "You know, I thought I wasn't messed up because I don't have dead parents or walk alone on rainy nights or fight crime to avenge deaths. But I guess I kind of am, in my own way, huh?"

"Everyone is, Miss Dani."

I breathe a soft snort, continuing down the stairs.

Before seeing Dick, I stop by Jason's room; or what I remember as Jason's room. I kick the door as a knock before walking in, trying to find the light switch when I realize the room is dark. When I flip it on, I spot him sitting stick straight up in his bed, brandishing a gun in each hand.

Recognizing me, he's quick to shove them back under his pillows. "That can't be comfortable," I quip, going over to his armchair and sinking heavily into it.

He sighs, running one hand through his bedhead. "Do you know what time it is?"

I shrug. "Nighttime. Aren't you usually awake?"

"Yeah, but I was up _all day_," he complains, moving his hand from his head to scratch his shoulder. He then seems to notice he's shirtless (I could care less, honestly) and rifles around his rumpled bed, trying to come up with a shirt. "You really can disappear when you want to."

I try to blow the bangs out of my eyes. "It's one of the many talents I possess."

He raises an eyebrow as he returns to his original sitting position with a shirt in hand. His slightly amused/curious expression disappears as he pulls it over his head. "So, where'd you go?"

I fix him with a calculating stare, looking him up and down before glancing away dismissively. "Sorry, Jason. Don't know you that well."

His mouth twitches at my mocking jab, but continues to wait for a response.

"Do you know what Dick wants to do?" I ask instead, leaning an elbow on the armrest so I can rest my head. I'm pretty tired, actually. I haven't slept in over 24 hours.

He wrinkles his nose. "Did you have to phrase it like that?"

"You said I make too many jokes so now I have to make it easy for everyone else to make them," I explain.

He shakes his head, grinning, and answers my question. "I do, kind of. But you'll have to talk to him about it."

"Ugh, can't I get a spoiler around here? What are you, Alfred?" I throw out my other arm in exasperation, still not moving my head from its comfortable position on my palm. "What if I told you where I went?"

"Well, then I promise to tell you what Dick has in store." We both snicker at his wording. "But then I wouldn't tell you, because I suck at promises."

With my cheek crushed into my palm, I can only manage a one-sided smirk. "But you're keeping the one you made to Dick. And then, you could say…" My giggles interrupt my wording, making it hard to get them out. "You suck at Dick promises." Now done, I giggle uncontrollably while Jason watches with thinly veiled amusement.

"Nah," he says finally. "Can't do it. I'm a little scared of him when he's like this. You know, like you can be scared of a rabid bunny that can bite you and give you rabies."

"Say it." I'm suddenly serious, staring at him intently.

Amusement is replaced by confusion. "Say what?" I continue staring at him until a light goes on behind his eyes. "OH! If I do, will you tell me where you went?" I shrug and offer a half nod, which he seems to accept. With a mock resigned sigh, he says, "Dick scares me."

I lose it again, but recover more quickly this time so I can answer his question. "Remember my story?" He nods. "I went and hung out with the kid I was talking about. I usually visit him every once in a while but haven't in a long time, so I decided it was as good a time as any."

"Where's he?"

I shrug, swinging my feet and casually avoiding eye contact.

Jason breathes out a heavy sigh. "You're not going to tell me anymore than that?"

"If I told you any more, I'd be lying. I'm not a liar." Stubborn, I stand up. "Besides. I'm a mystery. It's intriguing. So shut up and be intrigued."

He raises his hands in surrender, eyes laughing.

"Well, I'm off to my execution," I announce melodramatically, striding toward the door with exaggerated purpose. "_Símera to kánoume eftychisméno, giatí ávrio pethaínoume_, or whatever that saying is."

"Wait, what was that? Greek? Since when do you know Greek?"

Well, I did spend three or four weeks in Greece and Italy, but the language mostly came from a ghost I was trying to help back to the Ghost Zone that was haunting the Olympus ruins. She really liked that saying, and the closest translation is, "Today we make merry, for tomorrow, we die."

Fitting, since she _is_ a ghost.

I shrug, leaving the room and flipping off the light as I go. He doesn't stop me as I go, but I guess he's getting dressed and will catch up with me after I talk to Dick. As I make my way to the room housing the grandfather clock and a great deal of parental portraits, I try to calm my nerves.

At the time, rushing in had seemed the only reasonable course of action. Hanging out with Danny and his friends had cleared my head a little, and they had managed to explain why Dick had blown up. For one, Dick didn't _know_ I had ghost powers. I couldn't pretend my powers of BS were good enough to beat Jason if it come to a fight. Second, Danny scolded me based on the depressing inadequacy of my ghost powers. He (probably accurately) predicted that if it had come down to it, I probably would have lost a fight with Jason even with my huge advantage.

That hurt the ego a bit.

Can't say he's wrong, though. For the first half of my life, using my powers was done only under the most dire of circumstances. Even the small amounts I spared for intangibility and flight that would otherwise have left me fully dead had my hands and feet dissolving. After Danny stabilized me, the feeling just kind of… stuck. Little things were fine, but ectoblasts and transforming left me feeling sick. The flight to Amity, done in my human form, took several reassurances from Danny to assuage the fear that I would dissolve, though I didn't verbally express my anxiety.

Don't get me wrong, though. I do use my powers a lot, even if they're just small things here and there. I'm only human, after all, and powers do make things _so much easier._

My nervous musings led me to the Cave before I could decide against it, though I still hesitate at the top of the stairs. Geez, why am I so nervous? Shouldn't I be defensive? Wasn't I in the right?

I start to descend the stairs, knowing Dick had been tracking my path through the Manor and already knew I was there. When I round the corner and enter the main space, he's waiting for me, arms crossed, just as I imagined.

Without a word, I walk up to about ten feet from him and cross my arms.

"First of all," he begins only a moment after I stop moving, "I'm glad you made it back from wherever you were." He pauses for my input but continues soon after I make it clear I'm not going to add any. "Second, I'm _so_ sorry, Dani."

This takes me aback, and I feel my eyebrows furrow in confusion as he continues.

"Jason told me what you said, and I didn't realize you had lived with someone so awful before… I didn't mean to scare you, and I promise I'll never be like him or treat you like he did."

Confusion completely replaces my wariness and anxiety. My arms fall to my sides and I take in his body language; hands slightly splayed, head tilted and eyes wide and pleading. Wait… did he think he reminded me of _Vlad_? Without warning, laughter bubbles out of me.

Dick is completely taken aback as I try to stifle my laughter with both hands.

"That wasn't a true story?" Dick guesses, still lost at my mirth.

I shake my head, finally gaining control of my laughter. "Sorry, I mean yes. It was-is." Greedy for air, I suck in a couple, slightly-hysterical gasps of breath and continue. "Sorry, it's not really funny. But if you reminded me for a second of that guy, I wouldn't have talked to you in the first place." Now thoughtful, I try to find the similarities between the two, but can't find any other than their billionaire status. "I mean, you're not old and creepy, you don't have a bunch of cats, and you don't stalk a teenage kid and his mother."

One of his eyebrows arch.

I shrug at his incredulous look. After another moment to gather his bearings, he changes the topic. "Where were you?"

Ugh. This again. I wave it off, just like I did Jason. "With my _guy_. Chillax, it's not a big deal."

To my surprise, he accepts that and moves on to the elephant in the room. "So. What happened with Jason."

I groan, my shoulders falling in dejection. "I know, I know. I messed up. I should've woken Alfred, or left a note, or something. It made perfect sense at the time."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes like a tired old man.

I guess he is, kind of. He goes well beyond his years.

"I thought you weren't interested in doing things like this."

I shake my head. "No, I'm not interested in being a hero-slash-vigilante-slash-vengeance-driven-crime-fighter." At least… not yet. The decision is becoming more blurred the longer I stay here. "But this didn't have anything to do with that. This was Damian and Tim! They needed help; I couldn't just let them get hurt!"

The lines in Dick's face lighten as a flicker of a smile plays along the planes of his face. "I figured it might be something like that."

I stay quiet, silently offering him the opportunity to go on. He moves over to the table, back blocking the items he retrieves. "It happens a lot in this family. But let me make this clear: it isn't your job to rescue us. We have plenty of friends for that." As he speaks, he turns back towards me and reveals what's in his hands. "So you're getting a phone." He displays the shiny, new smartphone as he introduces it. "There are plenty of contacts on here that you can call if all of us are in trouble."

Grudgingly, I accept the phone, examining it in distaste. I've never really cared about cell phones. "I'm going to lose it in about four seconds," I confess, though I dutifully pocket it.

Dick smiles. "It's okay, we have stuff for that. Besides, we're the _Bat_ family. Phones are nothing compared to the motorcycles, jet planes and multi-million dollar bases we wreck on a regular basis."

"And carpets," I add. "How did your dad react?"

Dick's eyes glimmer in mischief for a moment before settling into mild annoyance. "He said there were better ways to go about it." We both roll our eyes good-naturedly. "Anyway, next."

"Next?" I groan.

He opens his other hand, dangling a black watch from between his fingers. "This is a smart watch. Full internet access, communications, device transmitters, basic hacking bypasses and GPS unit. Made to be virtually indestructible, and it even has a holograph screen."

"What's the point of a phone if this thing has communications?" I glower, accepting the watch. "Wait," I stop. "GPS?" I hold the watch away from me. "You want to track me?"

Dick fixes me with a determined look, completely decided. "It's a precaution for if you can't reach us, or if you're unconscious. It's not an invasion of privacy, because it'll only be used for emergencies."

"What if I want to leave? What if you piss me off again and I want to go somewhere you won't find me?"

Unperturbed, he leans forward and points to a button on the watch. "Incognito mode. When we look up your signal, it'll say very clearly that you don't want to be found, and we have to ask permission to access. If you don't respond, it'll allow us in, but if you do, it won't."

I hardly think that'll stop them from accessing the signal. If they're curious enough about where I go, they'll be able to find me. Still, it seems reasonable enough. It's not like I disappear all too often, and when I do it's just so I can explore. If I really, _really_ don't want to be found, there's always that little advantage of mine.

With an exaggerated sigh, I remove my previous, cheap watch and allow Dick to fasten the tracking device over the tan line on my left wrist.

"A couple more things," he goes on as I inspect my new accessory. I glare at him in exasperation, tired of this conversation by about twenty minutes. "Alfred is going to start tutoring you, and the rest of us are going to train you. Not to be a hero, and as much to your liking as possible, but this _is_ a dangerous family and we want you to be prepared."

I accept this and immediately count off what I want to learn, ticking off my fingers as I go. "Gymnastics from you, motorcycling from Jason, flying from Tim and throwing crap at people with accuracy from Damian."

Dick grins and shakes his head, breathing out a laugh. "Whatever you say, Dani." His smile grows more content as he and I watch each other. "I really am glad you're back."

Taking this as the end to this conversation, I pivot on my foot, waving as I stride away. "So am I, D. See you in the morning."

Now that the conversation I was _dreading_ is now over, I can _finally_ get some sleep.

* * *

**I really like that chapter, though it is fairly quiet action-wise and I feel like it's kind of choppy. Anyway, in response to some comments: Bruce doesn't know Phantom's identity. Since Danny and Dani both suck at lying, they really just avoid the truth. Besides, Captain Marvel hid the fact that he was a ten year old kid from the entire League and they didn't know. How the Batfam finds out about her identity is already decided, and I am actually really excited for it. **

**Anyway, comments and critiques, as always, are deeply cherished in my soul.**

**Until next time!**


	19. Chapter 19

Damian greets Dani in French, and she doesn't hesitate to respond the same way. Halfway through the conversation, he switches unexpectedly to Spanish and she follows without pause. I'm not even sure she's aware she's doing it; the poor kid is exhausted.

"_Was meinst du_?" she asks for clarification when he changes languages in the middle of the sentence. He explains in the same manner of half Spanish, half German, and she mutters a reply. I mentally note her request for conversation was not do to the lack of comprehension of the two mashed languages, but a misunderstanding based on how Damian presented his question.

Damian continues a rigorous conversation/interrogation, constantly switching languages and topics in as casual a manner as he can manage. Dani, on the verge of falling asleep, mumbles her replies in whatever language the last word was spoken in, sometimes switching words for similar pronunciations in other languages. While they converse, I take careful mental notes on Dani's proficiency of each language.

Dani didn't often speak in anything other than English, and when asked couldn't recall the languages she knew or her development in each, so Damian had taken it upon himself to find out. She got annoyed when he tried to trick her into changing languages and usually replied in English, hence his ambush when she tried to sneak off to bed.

It was her own fault, really. She knew the dreaded Tim training session would be happening but stayed out in the city all night anyway, alternating between stalking me and Damian on patrol and conversing with the homeless. Every one of them she liked she bought an ice cream cone with, and I counted at least nine in her hands just last night.

Okay, so I was stalking her a little bit too. But in my defense, who eats that much ice cream?

I don't think she expected the training session to go on as long as it did; my and Jason's were usually only six hours or so. But Tim always was determined to a fault. His training went on until she could complete every task flawlessly. Given her lack of experience, it was actually impressive that mastery only took her fourteen hours. Although, I'm sure (mostly because she said so herself) that she didn't think so.

Damian continues with Chinese, which is where her mind officially breaks. "_Lasu min _sola," she expresses, climbing to her feet unsteadily. "_Iru paroli kun via kato_; _mi enlitiĝas_."

This surprises us both, and we don't stop her as she wanders away, vaguely aimed in the direction of the stairs. "What language was that?" Damian demands of me once she's out of earshot. "Some sounded like Spanish, but I don't recognize the rest."

I shake my head, unsure, and go to the Batcomputer, pulling up Bruce's translation program. Using the Spanish pronunciation and alphabet, I do my best to recreate what she'd said. The computer recognizes the language, automatically correcting my errors and translating into English. "Leave me alone. Go talk to your cat; I'm going to bed," I read. "Esperanto."

"Where did _she_ learn _Esperanto_?" he asks in disbelief, examining the translation with a touch of jealousy.

"No idea." I open up her file, though, and add my observations of her languages to her profile. She thought it was hilarious that I kept one and frequently read it, trying to find out just how we figured this or that out about her. Tim had drawn the line at her editing it, though, after she had added "pole dancing" and "chandelier climbing" to her list of known affinities.

Using Bruce's unique rating system, I input her known languages and her level of proficiency in each.

_English - Level 8 AVL_

_French - Level 6 AV_

_German - Level 5 AV_

_Spanish - Level 7 AV_

_Russian - Level 5 AV_

_Chinese - Level 4 AV_

_Italian - Level 5 AV_

_Arabic - Level 3 AV_

_Japanese - Level 4 AV_

_Korean - Level 4 AVL_

_Esperanto - Level 6 AV_

_Greek?_

_Latin?_

Level 9 is the highest level of which you can reach, being perfect mastery. Level one is knowing a couple of words and the pronunciation, Level two has more words, a basic understanding of grammar and recognition of the alphabet... and so on and so forth. AVL stands for Auditory, Verbal and Literacy, meaning understanding, speaking and reading/writing the language.

"It is impressive," Damian relents, reading the list as I create it. "She has to be a genius to learn that many languages."

"You know that many," I note absently, saving the file.

"I am a genius." He gestures to the screen. "And I had the best tutors Mother could provide. How did _she_ reach that level?"

"She travels," I muse, trying to calculate the amount of time she'd have to spend in each country to learn so many languages so well. "I think that she's figured out languages as you and Bruce have."

He nods sharply. "Grammar, words, context. All languages are the same base, once you break it down. The rest is memorizing the words."

"Exactly. I just can't believe we didn't notice her affinity for languages. She speaks English without accents or mixing up words or pronunciations. That's usually the biggest sign."

"To her credit, she _did_ tell us."

I chuckle, recalling her argument with Damian. "That's true." I pull out my phone as I respond, typing out a mass-text to everyone in the household. Damian pulls up the alert when it pings his glove, sending me an annoyed glance before wandering off to do whatever it is he does for fun.

Then I shut Dani out of my mind and return to the case Damian and I had been working on for the past week or so. A serial killer that killed men and women alike, leaving them without hands upside down in their bedrooms.

Did I mention how much I love Gotham?

* * *

When I wander into the kitchen early the next morning, feeling dead on my feet after a long night of investigation, Dani is pouring batter onto a waffle iron. Alfred stands to the side, supervising her as he cuts strawberries. She offers me a bright smile as I collapse into a barstool and lean over the counter to grope for the coffee pot.

"_Yumkinuk tamrir li alqahuwata_?" I articulate slowly, sending Alfred a wink. He had decided against our day of Arabic, saying he's "a bit rusty on Middle Eastern dialects" in that sarcastic tone of his.

Dani's face slips into confusion, glancing at the coffee and then back at me. "_Qahu_?" she repeats, grabbing the handle of the pot and passing it to me. I mentally cheer for her, as she'd broken the grammar down to find the subject of my question, even if she didn't understand the words I spoke. "Why are you speaking Arabic?"

"_'Iinah yawm earabiin. la anjaliziat._" I pour myself a cup of coffee in a mug Alfred gave me, adding sugar and cream.

"What about today? What's 'No English day?'"

I shrug, and she groans in exasperation. "I don't _know_ Arabic that well. It's one of the most difficult languages to learn, you know!"

And that's exactly why Bruce made us all learn it. I say so in Arabic, just causing Dani to glare. "_lhdha alsabab jaealna brus jamieuna nadrusuh._"

Damian enters the room, greeting me by correcting my grammatical errors. Dani growls when he corrects me in Arabic, taking her frustration out on a waffle buried in whipped cream and syrup. Then she addresses Alfred. "You'd think they'd be impressed with my language skills, but _no_. Eight isn't enough for them."

"_Ahd eshr_," Damian corrects her assessment to eleven. She waves that off, digging back into her waffles. I find myself wondering how she looked so well rested if she'd only had the last six-ish hours to sleep.

She notices me analyzing her and insults me in Arabic, something I can't directly translate. Damian snickers, though, so it can't be good.

We continue eating breakfast, Damian and I mercilessly engaging Dani in conversation she struggles to follow, while Alfred tidies up the kitchen and sends us exasperated glances. We're in the middle of our second helping of waffles when Bruce joins us, wearing a ruffled shirt. He grunts a hello in Arabic (he got my text, :D) and helps himself to a plate of waffles.

I ask him-in Arabic, of course-where he's been and what he's been doing and he conversationally responds with stories of his reintegration in the company and the League. It'd only been a couple of weeks since he'd returned, and already the weight of the world had settled back upon his shoulders. However, with Damian and I taking care of Gotham and all the other allies that had arisen during his brief absence now at his command, his responsibilities eased considerably. Still, it was uncommon that we crossed paths nowadays.

Dani continues to get more frustrated with our conversation, often asking for clarification and translation that doesn't come as readily as she demands. After finishing her breakfast, she angrily washes the dish and stalks out of the kitchen.

Bruce watches her leave with humor, turning the conversation to her now that she'd left. "I saw her train with Tim yesterday," he says in English. "I thought you said she wasn't going to pick up a mask."

"It's only a matter of time," Damian declares in a decided tone. I look at him in interest, and he explains. "She has a certain aptitude for learning what we teach her, and she takes joy in doing good. Once she has gotten over her child-like aversion to responsibility, she will undoubtedly join our ranks."

Bruce nods. "I have come to the same conclusion." He looks to me, but I shrug, not offering input one way or the other. Whatever she decides is her choice. "What's her training today?"

"She doesn't have any, I think." He asks why with a single twitch in his eyebrow. He must be going crazy not being in charge of her training. "We only make her train three times a week. Sometimes she picks up more when she's bored, but Tim's session wore her out yesterday so I doubt that will happen today."

"So the Arabic?"

I try not to grin. "Testing her extent of the language."

Damian mumbles around his glass of water, "It's funny when she gets mad."

Bruce grants us one of his rare smiles and stands up from the bar. "I'm off to the company for the day," he announces. "Don't forget about the annual Gold Banquet tomorrow. We're hosting, so there will be people here at noon to set up."

Damian and I let out mirrored groans.

He gives us both a light glare. "Don't get in their way." What he means is behave and don't lead any of them to the BatCave. You think he'd have to warn us, but you'd be surprised... He waves goodbye, sending us one more stern glance, and leaves the room.

Now finished with breakfast, Damian and I head down to the BatCave, hoping to hide from the people for the day. As soon as we exit the elevator, Dani shoots up from the pole and lands on her feet, waving at me.

"Hey, hey, can I borrow a motorcycle?"

Jason's out today, so why does she want to go driving? "Why?"

The answer comes from another person shooting up the pole. Dressed in a plain long-sleeved shirt and jeans, Barbra lands soundly on her feet and answers my question with a two-fingered wave. It still amazes me to see her on her feet, even almost nine months after her recovery. I linger there for a second before returning to her face.

"I didn't know there was another one," she remarks in good humor, putting one hand on her hip. "But thank Bats it's a girl."

Dani nods knowingly. "The testosterone does get a little overpowering."

"What are you doing here?" I ask Barbra with a smile.

"I was visiting, but now I'm going to hang out with this bundle of sarcasm."

Dani gives me two thumbs up.

"Yeah, okay, go ahead and take a couple cycles. What are you going to do?"

They look at each other, both shrugging. "Shopping," Barb answers. "Don't you guys have a party tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but Dani doesn't have to go."

"If we have to go," Damian sniffs, "she has to go."

"It'll be fun," Barb promises, though Dani looks unconvinced. Can't say I blame her. "We can get you a whole bunch of pretty dresses and stuff." She holds out her hand to me. I glance at it and back up at her in confusion. "Credit card?"

Oh. I fish out my wallet and hand her a random card from my collection, knowing they all had an insane amount of cash on them. She pockets it with a Cheshire smile and turns to Dani. "Let's go!"

She has a petulant frown on her face, wrinkling her nose. "I don't like dresses." Then she glances at Damian and I. "But let's go before they remember they're supposed to be speaking Arabic."

Damian lets out an Arabic swear as the girls laugh and slide down the pole. I let out a soft laugh once they're out of earshot, turning towards Damian. "So, training?"

* * *

**Sorry for the short, slow chapter after the couple weeks of radio silence. However, this chapter was necessary, because the next sees Dani entering the world of upper-class Gotham. I wonder what you guys think I'm going to do with that...? Answer: a _lot_. **

**Let's throw in some comment replies while I'm at it, shall we? **

**Yes, Danny and Sam are a couple. I _hardcore_ ship them. Plus, they're not the main part of this fic, so adding romantic angst with the two makes no sense. Second, Danny didn't tell Dani about Vlad because Vlad and Danny fight all the time and its old news. Besides, Danny beat Vlad before he could accomplish anything... Or... did he? Anyway, finally, yes the Fentons are selling tech and all that, but like most new inventions in the science world, it doesn't really affect the general populace. Like new surgical tools and lab materials. Nobody knows about that stuff. Ghosts aren't a huge addition to the world but are starting to moderately affect it. Again, it's not really the focus of this fic so I'm not doing a whole bunch with it.**


	20. Chapter 20

**I know it's been a hot sec, so this is a long one. The first part is a fluff bit and the second has that ship I was thinking about... Anyway, more at the end.**

* * *

"We should've driven a car," I comment when the cashiers finish packing all our purchases into bags. "There's no way we're getting all this home on two motorcycles."

"I called Alfred," Barbara assures me, looking at our mountain of bags with pride. "I really liked that dark blue one. You should wear it tomorrow."

At Barbara's bullying, I'd agreed to not only go shopping but also to try on the countless dresses she came up with. To be honest-though I'd never admit it outloud- it was actually kind of fun. I even came up with a couple of dresses for her that she ended up buying.

But the _best_ part of shopping was when I convinced Barbara to go into a T-shirt store and we picked out several for the guys. They're _awesome_. Totally worth trying on a kazillion dresses.

With the help of several store employees, we move our mountain outdoors, where a long black car has parked itself on the curb. "Oh, dear," Alfred comments when he exits the car. "I see your trip was... productive."

Barbara smirks as Alfred opens up the trunk. The three employees help us load the parcels and bags, first in the trunk and then the back seat when we ran out of room. Alfred tips them all with a twenty, much to their delight, and they leave with big smiles.

"Might I ask what could possibly be contained in so many parcels?" Alfred drawls, shutting the door on the bags with a sarcastic lift of his eyebrow.

"Let's see… Two formal dresses and one casual for me, and matching shoes and accessories for each… Seven formal dresses and three casual for Dani, plus shoes and accessories and hair stuff and makeup." She grins at me. "And a lot of shirts. You'll find out why when we get back."

I relent a small grin. I can't wait to hand out the shirts.

I wave at Alfred and start walking back to where Barbara and I had left our motorcycles. "We'll see you back at home! Thanks for picking the stuff up!"

"Of course, miss," Alfred responds, rounding the car to get back to the driver's seat. Barbara and I jog to our cycles, not wanting Alfred to beat us home.

Unfortunately, he does. Barbara and I end up in traffic, and since I don't have a car's license, let alone a cyclist's one, we have to follow the laws. I mean, it's not like they could stop me from driving illegally again, but they'd probably get suspicious when they arrested me and I didn't, you know, exist.

When we do get back, Alfred had roped Jason into helping our stuff inside, which is now piled up in the foyer. Jason is looking dumbfounded at the sheer amount of bags and boxes we'd bought, rubbing his neck and frowning.

"Who needs this many clothes?" he asks us when we walk in.

"Dani," Barbara answers matter-of-factly. "She doesn't have any formal wear."

"I don't go to formal events," I mutter.

"What'd you say?" she accuses, putting her hands on her hips.

I immediately surrender. "Nothing. Nope." Jason raises an eyebrow at me. "Want to guess what we got you?" I address him, digging around the bags for the ones with the t-shirt store's logo.

"If I don't ask, will you keep the answer to yourself?"

I laugh, withdrawing the desired bags out of the pile. I rifle around inside one, trying to find my favorite Jason t-shirt.

"I'm scared," Jason mutters at Barbara. In my peripheral vision, I catch her sending him a high-eyebrowed smirk.

I turn to Jason with the shirt displayed, showing him the graphic proudly. It's a simple gray t-shirt with black lettering, reading, "**Daddy's Little Monster**". "Do you know how hard it is to find this in your size?" I ask him rhetorically as he reads the shirt in confused silence.

"I'm not going to wear that," he states bluntly.

"Or this one? Or this one?" I pull out more as I ask him, all daddy issue t-shirts. "We got you nine."

"Ten," Barbara corrects. "There's that one we got for everyone."

"Oh, yeah." I find one, though I'm pretty sure it's in Dick's size, and show it to Jason. "Why be yourself when you can be Batman?"

I try not to giggle like a schoolgirl when he accepts that one. Instead, I return to my bags. "Okay, I have some for Damian and Tim and Dick and one for Bruce, even though he scares me a little bit."

Jason has this look of high amusement, trying to keep his mouth shut and answer me at the same time. "What does it say?" he forces out around his grin.

Deciding it would be better if I showed him like I had all the others, I grab it from one of the bags and hold it up to him. He bursts out laughing, no longer able to hold it in.

"I'm not saying I'm Batman, I'm just saying Batman and I have never been in the same room together," reads Dick, who'd probably heard our return when we'd entered the BatCave. He and Damian were doing a thing with sticks, but I guess we're more important. "That's awesome. Did you get one for me?"

I frown. "No, just Bruce. But he probably won't wear it. We got you some other ones though."

Dick looks down at Jason's strewn shirts and tries to contain his smile. "Are you going to wear those?"

"Never."

Yeah, right. What else will he wear when I burn the rest of his shirts? ... Probably walk around without one. I'll have to ask Alfred where the thermostat is.

Barbara takes the honor of showing Dick his t-shirts, which include feelings about sleep, desires to hug people, and Disney princess quotes. What can we say? He's a ball of fluff. My favorites of his are "**I'm a Princess. Don't be Surprised When I Randomly Break Out Into Song and Dance**" and "**Chick Magnet**", with lots of baby chicks on it.

Barbara holds out the princess one and tells him to put it on. He laughs and refuses. I stop paying attention when she full-on tackles him, pulling out my cell phone (which remarkably stayed inside my sweatshirt pocket) to send a text to Damian. Tim should be out with the Titans; he had been since yesterday and would be until late tonight.

"What else did you get?" Jason asks, gesturing to the bags and blatantly ignoring the wrestling match Barbara and Dick are in.

I sniff. "Dresses and other stupid things like that."

He nods knowingly.

Damian, who wasted no time at my text, enters the room and surveys the scene with distaste. "What did you need, Dani?"

"I got you shirts," I explain.

He folds his arms and rolls his eyes, annoyed. "I don't wear T-shirts," he states in that haughty, I'm-better-than-you-in-every-way tone.

Still, I show him the "**Good Morning, I see the assassins failed**". His expression doesn't change. I toss it at him, which he catches with two fingers and holds at an arm's length, and reach for another. They're all the angsty, anti-social ones the store had. Every new one I throw at Damian is dropped into a pile at his feet.

Sigh. Looks like I'm going to be burning his shirts too.

"I'm not wearing these. No one would," Damian insults, folding his arms when I run out of shirt ammo. Jason, in response, takes a step forward, glares, picks up a random shirt off the floor and puts it on over the one he's already wearing. I stifle a laugh. **Got Daddy Issues?**

Damian rolls his eyes.

Barbara, apparently successful, climbs up from the wrestling match she had started, pushing her hair behind her ear with a grin. Dick groans from the ground and sits up, rubbing his hair. Pulled haphazardly over his chest is the disney princess shirt. I offer a hand to Barbara and she high-fives me.

Meanwhile, Damian and Jason have started arguing.

I smile at Dick, who hesitantly returns it, probably worried about another tackle. "I can't decide if you stop or start more fights," he comments. Barbara sends me another knowing smirk. "I mean, who knew so much drama could start over a couple of t-shirts?"

Barbara barks a laugh as I pick up a bunch of random bags off the floor, intent on bringing them up to my room. "I'll give you one guess, boy wonder."

I throw a smirk over my shoulder.

* * *

The afternoon of the party was not as bad as I thought it would be. Barbara decided to go just so she could help me dress up, which basically condemned me into going. She spent hours getting us ready, but her constant conversation kept my boredom and humiliation at bay. Mostly because she was sharing stories of everyone else's humiliations and that's my all-time favorite conversation topic, but please, I'm _not_ a gossip.

The worst part was when she made me shave. Freaking shave. Do you have any idea how long that takes?

After three hours of make-up, hair, accessories and other touch-ups, she declares me fit for Gotham's elite.

"You really are gorgeous," she compliments as she straightens her own hair. "And unique. No matter what this household will have you believe, the black-hair-blue-eyes combo is not as common as you'd think."

I peer into the mirror with hesitation. My hair is piled on top of my head in a perfectly-placed messy bun, a single braid wrapped around its base. Two bouncy curls frame my face, constantly swaying in my peripheral vision. The dress Barbara decided on was made of a deep blue, flowy material that hugged my body until flaring out at the hips, falling to my knees in the front and continuing lower to the ground as it got to the back. The neckline is low but not revealing, and to fill the empty space between the dress and my chin, Barbara had clasped a simple black chain and matching blue pendant around my neck.

I feel uncomfortable in the dress, even though it doesn't reveal anything but my shoulders and knees. In an effort to feel more like myself, I add a black leather jacket to cover my arms and shoulder blades. It doesn't quite match the formality of the event or the dress, but it feels familiar. The jacket is useless, though, as it barely falls below my middle back and doesn't even have pockets, but it works for me anyway.

"That doesn't match," Barbara calls from over at the vanity.

"So?"

"Just in case you wanted to know."

Barbara is wearing a purple, empire-waisted gown with gray accents. Like her dress, her hair is long and straight. She wears a purple crystal necklace that follows the dips in her collarbone, accentuating her toned muscles there. I wouldn't think red hair would mix with purple and gray, but she looks no less beautiful in it.

She glances at her phone. "We better get downstairs. The party's about to start." Using a purple clutch, she puts her phone away. I keep mine on my dresser, having no place to put it and finding no need for one in my own house. The watch stays on, though, and it's now hidden underneath my sleeve.

We end up just outside the main room where the party guests are starting to gather, both reluctant to join the mass of very snobby rich people.

"Holy crap, you really are a girl," Dick jests from behind me. I back away from where I'd been peeking out into the ballroom, taking in his tux with a snort. He has completely stepped into the role of the rich and elite, his posture oozing charisma and charm. "You're a miracle worker, Babs."

She rolls her eyes. "I already knew that."

Ignoring both their jabs, I stab a thumb over my shoulder at the gathering party. "This looks awful," I stage-whisper, wide-eyed at the decorations and people. "And I feel like a Barbie doll."

Dick frowns in contemplation, considering me. "You kind of do look like a Barbie doll." Barbara elbows him, frowning. "Hey, it's a good thing!"

"Not really…"

"I'm just saying, your face is perfectly symmetrical and your features are well spaced. Your skin is clean and smooth with uniform coloring."

"Which is geek jargon for you look hot."

"That's brother jargon for I look hot," I mutter, looking back out at the gathering crowd and pretending to miss Dick's proud, beaming smile.

"By the way, some of Tim's friends are here." Dick lowers his voice. "They need to talk to him after this so they came as civilians to enjoy this very fun party."

"Why not just come afterward?" Barbara asks, rolling her eyes.

"Bonding, civilian training, espionage? Who knows." He leans close to my ear. "'Friends' mean Titans."

"Oh my gosh, I can cross them off my list," I gasp. "Which ones?"

"Where's the fun in telling you that?"

After that cryptic comment, Dick melodramatically sweeps out of the room and into the ballroom. A lot less reluctant than before, I follow after him.

Dick is immediately flowered with attention, mostly from the young, female percentage, and I quickly abandon him. The girls do nothing but make snide comments in my direction, even though we both introduce me as a family member.

Instead, I wander around, answering nosy questions about where I came from and who I'm related to, trying to find another familiar face. As I cross the ballroom, which has been decked out in gold decorations, I accidentally bump against a woman talking to a blonde haired man. Stepping sideways, I apologize, quickly examining her for spilled drinks or food.

"It's fine, I wasn't holding anything," she interrupts, waving away my apologies. Now not looking for stains, I notice how gorgeous she is with her flowing blonde hair, sparkling eyes and well-toned body fitting nicely in a sleeveless black dress. "I'm Dinah Lance."

"Dani," I reply, accepting her hand in a shake.

She waits for a last name briefly before passing over it and introducing her companion. "This is Oliver Queen."

At a loss for something better to say, I shake his hand and announce, "Charmed."

He laughs. "So am I. Who are you here with?"

I shrug. "I'm just a kid from the streets who snuck in, stole a dress, and is about to rob the Waynes blind."

Oliver laughs again, longer this time. "Good luck with that. They have pretty extensive security."

Dinah slides a look to him, almost imperceptible, and he readjusts his posture in response. I catch their near-nonexistent conversation and stop to examine this couple again. "I know," I continue, voice still light. "The dress alone took eight passwords."

"Only the Waynes." He shakes his head. "Where _do_ they lock up their dresses?"

"In her room," answers Dick, entering the conversation from seemingly nowhere. "Where else?"

He offers me a drink that I accept, trusting it not to be alcoholic. "I'm going to rob you guys blind," I inform him, sipping the pink-tinted drink. It's raspberry lemonade, which I think it strange for a gold-themed ball, but whatever.

His eyes are laughing as he answers, "You can try, but I doubt you could carry enough stuff out of here to even make a dent." He turns to Dinah and Oliver, smiling with familiarity. "Nice to see you two, Dinah, Ollie."

This only confirms my suspicions of their possible superhero persona. I discreetly observe Ollie's shaggy blonde hair and goatee. Where have I seen that before? I block out his eyes; I haven't seen those. With no suit, what would he wear?

"Nice to see you, too, Dick," Dinah answers warmly, taking Ollie's arm. "Now if you'll excuse us, I need to make sure Ollie talks to people. You know how bad he can get at being a CEO."

Dick laughs and Ollie frowns, disgruntled.

OH, YES!

"_No, but I-"_

_Another explosion rocks the ground, sending my already swirling head into a blender. When my vision next focuses, I'm on my forearms, my face barely an inch from the concrete ground. I glance up at my male companion, who's withdrawing another arrow from his quiver. "Stay here, kid," he grunts, notching his arrow into the string of the bow. _

"_I need to tell you about-" He grunts again and aims, causing my adrenaline to kick in. I struggle to stand. "No, you don't understand, you have to listen to me!"_

"_Don't move."_

_He releases the arrow and runs towards where it had gone, leaving me on my knees, pleads still half out of my mouth. "You're going to freaking die!" I cry in frustration, finally standing. _

_Unsteady from the blow to my head a few moments before, I stumble away, trying to get enough distance away to safely go invisible. It's a trap, why didn't I just say that? He would hear the words "trap" and listen, but no. I needed to say "listen, listen!"._

_After turning invisible, I hover softly, knowing if I transform and try to fly I'll end up flying into a wall. I'm too unsteady. _

_Once I start moving, I feel better. My vision steadies and random muscles stop twitching so furiously. I'm glad; that was annoying the crap out of me. Lucky enough for me, Arrow hadn't run directly into the trap. He'd hung back, shooting from a distance. But it won't last. Once he sees Speedy…_

_I groan as he notches another arrow, aiming at another man. He's wasting his time, and he knows it. The explosions are just a distraction. The real threat has to do with a bio-weapon and Speedy dead. This is personal against Green Arrow, and he was blind to see what is happening before his eyes. _

_Luckily, I'm not blind, and I see both sides equally. Both are making stupid mistakes, and I can exploit that._

_I skirt around the fight, carefully avoiding the ground that's on fire. As soon as Green Arrow reaches the warehouse where Speedy is, the trap will be sprung. I'm not quite sure what it is, but I do know that there's no way Green Arrow will get out of it alive. _

_An arrow whizzes past my head, burying itself into the stone wall beside me. I still, looking at the arrow and back at where it came from. Heroes like Green Arrow don't miss, so what does the arrow do? I should probably get out of here before…_

_Mist hisses out of the arrow, and I groan, sprinting through the mist intangibly in order to get outside its range before I have to breathe again. I don't stop running, trying to get to the building before Green Arrow does. _

_Unfortunately, Green Arrow's anxiousness to rescue Speedy is worth more than my desire to get there first. He's already there by the time I round the corner from one street down. Arrow notched in his bow, he aims high in the sky. I fly faster, still low to the ground, and snatch the arrow from his bow before he can shoot it. _

_He lets the string fly and it vibrates violently as its power is wasted on empty air. Twirling the arrow mockingly, I gain his attention. "Hey!" he shouts to the invisible me, snatching at the arrow. I dance out of reach. He pulls out another, aiming it where I'm holding the arrow. Then he aims higher, towards the roofs, and turns in a slow circle, searching. _

_Dangerous to assume I'm telekinetic, but when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, right? I drop the arrow, finding no use in keeping it and approach silently again. This time, I take another arrow from his quiver and stick it through one of his straps. Surprised, his arrow launches, landing somewhere out of sight. _

_I need something he has to have. I can feel the danger growing the longer we stand inside the trap._

_Without another second of hesitation, I snatch his bow. He holds fast, grunting as I yank on it with both hands. Ugggggh let goooo… Ending the tug of war with one pull, he holds his bow closer to his chest, scanning the area again. "Ha!" he shouts. _

_My anxiety spikes, hair rising along the back of my neck, chills running up and down my arms. Too loud. We've been too loud, too long. _

_I grab the bow, turn it intangible, and take off towards the fire escape. For some reason, I know we have to get higher. _

_Green Arrow probably has a backup bow, but he's not one to let a perfectly good one get taken by an unseen force. He takes off after me, thankfully choosing my trap over the one down here. I skim the fire escape, and I think this is when he realizes I'm not telekinetic. "Hey, wait! Why do you want my bow?"_

_I pause on the rooftop, clutching the bow in my hands. My ears are straining for the trap, desperately hoping it had sprung without us. Green Arrow approaches, but I'm too preoccupied with trying to inch my way to the edge of the roof to notice him until he's wrenched the bow rather painfully away from me. "Ouch," I mutter, rubbing my hands. His ears perk at my small noise and he has an arrow aimed at me before I can blink. _

"_Show yourself," he commands. I take his arrow again, annoyed, and toss it over the side of the roof. Now close enough to the edge, I can see the ground… Or rather, I can't. _

_Green Arrow looks to where I'd thrown his arrow and notices the thick gray mist. "I see," he murmurs. _

"_Go through the side servers entrance. The west one. It's boarded up, but unguarded." I keep my voice a mutter, trying not to create a connection between the girl he'd heard minutes before and the invisible entity speaking to him now. "And watch out for traps. You're really good at falling into them."_

_He looks right at me, and though he can't do the same to me, I study his face. Shaggy, lighter hair. A little goatee and mustache. A dark mask with white lens. Smile creases. "Thanks."_

_Though he can't see me, I duck my head in a silent nod. #17, Green Arrow. A-check._

I grin at their retreating backs. Leaning close to Dick, I mutter in his ear, "Green Arrow, Black Canary." It's obvious. Who else would she be?

Dick chuckles. "Drink your lemonade, Dani."

I sip it as he leaves my side to greet someone else. This one is hardly a challenge; Donna Troy. She doesn't wear a mask, and glasses have never been something to fool me. Dick turns to introduce me, but I decide against meeting her and instead wander off in search of another brother.

After rounding the three of them, with only Tim talking to another superhero, I find a window seat away from the heat and crush of the people and collapse on the cushion with my half-full glass. I search the mass of people as they pass by, mentally tracking their movements for signs of hidden grace.

Even if I don't name any more other than a red-headed boy I'm ultra sure is some kind of Flash (he has little movements of speed and fantastic reflexes that aren't natural), I name a number of suspects. A girl with long red hair in a green dress, a sparkly blond girl with a smile brighter than the crystals on her dress and a pair of boys, one with dark hair and one with red, both uncomfortably in suits and not-so-subtly stalking either Dick or Tim.

I twirl the empty glass in my hand, still searching the crowd, until I notice another presence has entered the little bubble of space the window had created. He notices me at the same time, relief fading into wariness. "Sorry," he mutters, glancing back out at the ballroom. "I didn't realize there was someone here."

"There are people _every_where," I reply, grinning at him.

He glares out at the ballroom. "Right."

I do him a customary once-over, noting how his suit is pristine and perfectly form-fitting though by the way he's standing I guess it's because its new and not because he takes care of his tuxes. His hair is cropped close to his head almost army-style, making it hard to recognize the color as red. It makes all the other features that much more prominent; the jawline, the shape of his nose, the crease between his eyes. I notice him analyzing me reproachfully, probably comparing me to every other girl in this ballroom.

I certainly look the part, though my slouched posture, half-off shoes and leather jacket off-set my image.

"Aren't you hot?" he asks finally, settling into his stance. I take that to mean he's not going back out in the crush of people, and I sit up straighter to allow him room to sit.

"Kinda, but not enough to take off the jacket. Besides, you're wearing one." He gives me another once-over before perching on the edge of the seat, leaning sideways to keep me in full view. I almost tease his wariness but decide against it. "Who are you here with?"

"Friends."

"You must have really mean friends."

A small smirk pulls at the edge of his mouth. "Yeah, they're annoying. What about you?"

"Depends on my mood and your patience level."

His smile grows a couple of millimeters. "I meant who are you here with?"

I sigh. "My family."

"And they left you alone?"

I tilt my head in confusion. "I'm not ten," I reproach, defensive. "I can take care of myself."

He shrugs, nonchalant. "It _is _Gotham."

"True." I wave off into the crowd, not caring to continue the conversation about myself. People who are reluctant to smile are usually the most interesting, despite how strange that might sound. "They're doing business or whatever. I'd rather sit here than be ignored in conversation."

Which is true. The Wayne boys are supposed to socialize, and after an introduction, people could care less about me. "There isn't anyone here I _want_ to have a conversation with," he responds, more exasperated than directed at me. "Or at least not a public one."

"I'm going to bypass that obvious hint and introduce myself," I smile, extending my hand. "I'm Dani."

He hesitates only for a moment before extending his right hand and giving me a firm shake. "Roy."

"A pleasure. For you, mostly. I'm an incredibly interesting person."

"Wow, that arrogance came out of nowhere." His good-natured sarcasm thrills me. He's not being brusque anymore, so maybe now we can have some interesting conversation!

I laugh. "Yeah, it surprised me, too."

He leans back against the wall, turning him almost completely towards me. "Well, then, what's so interesting about you?"

I shrug, wearing a pleased smile. "I already know what's interesting about me. I want to know what's interesting about you."

"So that's how this is going to be?"

"Got a problem with it?"

We both challenge each other with our eyes, though we maintain good-natured smiles. As we stare each other down, another couple enters our little space, coming uncomfortably close to my head and chatting loudly.

"Only with the location," Roy answers finally, looking at the couple with distaste. "Want to explore?"

"This place? Yes."

He stands and I follow, shoving my feet back in my shoes. We weave through the crowd, him in the lead, until we reach the double doors leading into the next hallway. Bruce hired guards to be posted at all doors except for bathrooms and exits, trying to minimize the destruction to the manor. We walk down the hall, passing guards who eye us suspiciously as we pass by. I lean back and mutter in his ear, "Stairs."

He inclines his head slightly in a nod. There's no reason for there to be guards upstairs, as they are manning the stairways. We stop a ways from the East stairwell, both brainstorming ways to get the two guards to leave their station for enough time to get us upstairs. I could always give them the password Dick told me before the party started, but that would give away the fact that I live here, and I'd rather "explore".

Roy leans closer to my ear, his breath rustling strands of my hair that tickle my skin. "I have a plan. You're going to hold your breath until you're really pale, then we're going to approach them and say that the Waynes told us we could lay you down upstairs, but you know the password-" Huh. He knows about the password thing. Was I the only one who didn't? "And you can't breathe. Then-"

"Shh," I interrupt when I spot a man stumbling down the hall. "I have another one." I hurry over to the man, who's barreling down the hall towards us, and stop him just before the passageway leading to our goal. "Sir, sir!"

"Yes, ma'am'am," he slurs, stopping abruptly and almost tipping over. "Do you know where my wife is?"

He's drunker than I thought. Perfect. "Those guards over there do. If they say they don't, they're lying."

His eyes widen and he looks to them around the corner. "Are they Russian?"

"Are Russians bad?" I, personally, have many friends in Russia, and they're wonderful people. But having wonderful friends in a foreign country doesn't really help get past two guards, does it?

"They started the Cold War," he stutters as seriously as he can manage. "Bay of pigs and cows and horses…"

"Shh, they could hear you," I shush hurriedly. "Are you prepared to serve your country?"

He looks at me in confusion, eyeing my dress. "You don't look like a soooldier."

"That's what makes me a good one, sir. Besides, this is Gotham. How old is Robin, ten?"

I hope Damian didn't hear me, because he's thirteen and he'll _kill_ anyone who refuses to acknowledge it. The man nods, offering me a sloppy salute. "I'm prepared for my country and my wife."

"Then get them to take you to her! Don't take no for an answer! Don't leave either alone until you and your wife and your country is safe!"

"Huzzah!" he cries, charging around the corner in a drunken stupor. I grin maniacally at Roy, who's giving me an impressed look with folded arms. Down the hall, the sounds of the man shouting at the guards to release his wife and the guards shouting back are at full-volume. We hear the sounds drawing near so we start walking down the hallway, leisurely talking about the ball as the guards wrestle the celebrating man down the opposite way.

As soon as they round the corner, we sprint back the way we'd come, entering the stairwell and darting up the steps in case they checked it once they returned.

At the top of the steps, we burst out laughing, though Roy's is a lot softer and less forceful than mine. He composes himself quickly and asks, "That was impressive, how you manipulated that guy."

"If there's one thing I get," I lecture, a ridiculous smile on my face, "it's drunk logic."

His smile sobers and his eyes furrow in concern, looking at me with a new light.

Annoyed at his jumped conclusion, I wave him off. "Not because I know alcoholics. My logic is the same as a grown man's drunk logic."

He pauses and I take the opportunity to take off my shoes. "Oh, I see," he concedes, back in good humor. I toss my shoes down the darkened hallway. It's dim but not pitch, so I see the question in Roy's face.

"They belong in the trash; this is a kindness!" I growl in resolute anger, jabbing my finger in the direction I'd thrown them. "Besides, if I lose them I won't have to wear them again."

He chuckles and we explore in silence for a while before he brings up our previous conversation topic from before. "So, about why you're so interesting…"

"I call this the 'mutual revelation' game," I announce, waving my hands out dramatically. His look gives me pause, and I quickly amend, "The name is in the works. Basically, question," I point to myself "answer" I point to him "answer" back to me "and question." I point back at him. "Maybe it should be called the QAAQ."

"That sounds like a terrorist group," he jokes. I smile, loving his sarcasm.

"Chosen vehicle," I begin.

"Motorcycle," he replies instantly.

"We have that in common." We go up the stairs again to the third floor, finding the dull thump of the music through the ground to be annoying. "Except I don't have a license, so."

He waves that off with a grin. "Good drivers don't need traffic laws to keep them safe."

"Exactly!"

He ponders his question for a moment before settling on, "Music."

"Alan Walker, at the moment. But Evanescence, Lorde and Black Coast are close seconds."

"Alan Walker? The country singer?"

"NO!"

"Good, that would've been bad." He contemplates his own answer as we stroll leisurely down the dim hallway of the third floor, pausing periodically to examine rooms or decor. "I like rock and alternative." He rattles off a bunch of singers/bands I don't know and a couple I do, and we discuss music for a while before continuing with our game.

The back and forth stays in relatively casual topics, ranging from likes, dislikes, experiences and opinions. Neither of us broach childhoods or families, which I'm sure happens through our combined effort. I find he's traveled almost as extensively as I have, though he doesn't say why.

Our game dies down a little as we both share stories of our travels, including my excursion on the radioactive train in Lenin Prospekt, Russia, leaving him equal parts amused and concerned.

In return, he tells me about his time in Japan, where he accidentally ended up in a mafia meeting and had to pretend he was one of them, even though he only had a rudimentary understanding of the language.

"They didn't realize you weren't Japanese?"

"They thought I was part of the European division, because of my hair." He chuckles, rubbing his head with his left hand.

"Well, if _hair color_ is all someone needs to earn the trust of a global mafia…" I leave the comment hanging, unsure how to finish it.

Luckily, Roy just laughs again. "Seriously. You'd think the CIA would have an easier time."

"Ugh, I hate the CIA. They're so rude and they suck at covers. You have to maintain cover _all the time_. Hotel rooms are always bugged."

He raises an eyebrow at this.

I shrug at his nonverbal prompt to go on. "I was on the next floor. Might've caught the guy."

"With those arms?"

I flex, my thin muscles barely straining against my leather jacket. "Excuse me, that's all muscle right there." I drop my arms. "But if you insist, I'll tell you more. There was a bunch of yelling above me, so I opened the window to listen better. When I heard them threaten to throw the agent out the window, I tied the sheets together. They were already on the floor because I was about to check out, so it didn't take too long. Then I tied one end to the bed and hung the rest out the window. If they shot him, I couldn't really do anything, but might as well try, right?

They did end up throwing him out the window, and he flipped in the air so his hands were pretty close to the sheets. He grabbed them, which _threw_ the bed, but it still held, and then I helped him in through the window. I'm surprised he held onto the sheet. I tied a knot at the end, but still."

"What happened after that?"

"I helped him out of the room and went with him because I didn't want to get jacked, you know, so then he yelled at me to stop pretending that I was a spy and ditched me just outside the hotel. I lifted his badge, for that. Rude agent."

"Do you still have that badge?" His eyes are glimmering in laughter and respect, a humored smile lightening his face.

"Nah, I waited until the mobs left and returned it to his room. Put it in the toilet. Ha, loser."

His mouth turns up again. "Yeah, loser."

I realize now that he's much closer than when I started my story, grinning with an easier smile. He's a little bit taller than I am, and I find myself taking a step back instinctually, trying to level my gaze again. He almost unconsciously follows me, and I find my head tilting up so I can see his eyes better.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the intensity of the moment, I let out a breathy laugh. "I, uh…"

His watch starts buzzing and flashing, startling us both. He steps back, turning slightly and pulling up his sleeve. We both check our watches, him for the messages and me for the time. It'd been almost two hours… Wow, it only felt like a half hour.

I glance back at Roy, who's recovering his watch with his sleeve. He swears, glancing at me and down the hall. "I have to go," he explains, his expression flashing in regret. Before I can ask him for a way to contact him, or even his last name, he's taking off down the hall.

I'm surprised by the dejection I feel with his sudden disappearance. "Nice to meet you, too," I say to the empty hallway, turning around and making my way back to my room.

I'm so done with today.

* * *

**A little bittersweet, but they shall meet again! Anyway, things are going to start picking up; not in the next chapter but the one after that. It might be a couple of weeks, though, because I don't have it done and it's the end of school so things are kind of hectic. Anyway, let's do some responses, shall we?**

**She has met Wulf, but I haven't put that in yet. I know it's a lot of languages, but I'm going with the whole "Danny's a genius so Dani is too" thing. **

**And that's about it, because the last chapter was a bit more sparse than I would like. Hopefully this one was better!**


	21. Chapter 21

A couple of days after the ball, I'm working on the computer, adding and changing information in the Batcomputer's database from last night's patrol. Something felt off tonight, so naturally, I'm starting to obsess over the criminal activity. I _was_ trained by Batman, after all.

I can't quite explain how I know, but something's happening. It's starting to feel like routine, and "routine" is almost as voodoo as "quiet" when it comes to the hero business. Nothing new is popping up. Nothing big has been happening. It feels wrong.

Bruce has been back for almost two months, and since then there hasn't been any other deaths, plots, etc. from the Batfamily or in the Justice League.

It's good. And that makes it bad.

I glance at the time; 6:46. Bruce wants me to help him evaluate a League member around nine, so I only have a little over a couple of hours. How does Bruce do it? Prepare for every contingency and research the "maybes" and "what if"s along with everything else he's in charge of?

Well, for starters, he probably doesn't contemplate how little time there is.

Pushing away my mild frustration, I begin combing through the recent reports in the Justice League, mentally pointing out and storing abnormalities. After the first few, I'm completely focused, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

I spot tiny little inconsistencies in the reports; barely noted beyond a passing statement. Little things certain enemies knew concerning the League that they shouldn't. Preparation for a specific member, prior knowledge about a prototype weapon. One or two are commonplace. Enemies buy and sell knowledge about the League like candy. But I'm spotting eight, nine in the past week.

Small. Barely noticeable. But there's just too many for this to be coincidental.

My reverie is broken almost ninety minutes later with an announcement from the Zeta Beam. I blink several times, feeling an ache forming behind my eyes from staring at the screen for almost two hours straight. I rub them with the pads of my fingers, trying to wipe out my exhaustion.

"Hey, Nightwing."

Mildly surprised at who greeted me, I turn away from the computer completely. "Arsenal," I return, smiling pleasantly.

His grunt lets me know how his mood reflects that of a couple of nights ago; sour and short. The Titans had an emergency that Tim had planned for (and therefore invited all the Titans to be in one place should it occur, which it did) and when I had joined in after the guests had left, Roy had been in a terrible mood.

Well, at least he's talking now.

He approaches the computer with folded arms.

"Did… you need something, Roy?"

He casts me a sidelong glance at my hesitant question, probably rolling his eyes under his mask. "Yeah." I lean back, surprised at his answer. "I need a copy of the guest list from Saturday."

"Um… sure, why?" I turn to the computer and pull it up, adding another tab to the many I already have open. At Roy's request, I print it out.

He doesn't answer, skimming the list with a frown, which only deepens as he apparently doesn't find what he's looking for. "You don't ask for the names of the plus ones?" he asks, frustrated at the blanks in the list.

"Only for dinners." I stand from the chair, coming closer to where he is. "Why? Who are you looking for?"

He glances at me, his mouth tightening.

"Maybe I can help," I press. "I know more of Gotham's elite than you."

"So you knew everyone there?" he mocks, gesturing with the papers in his hand. "All three hundred something?"

I roll my eyes. "I said I know more, not that I know all. And I can find out if you give me some more details. Greatest Detective and all that." He snorts at me, mocking me without words. "Do you want to find this person or not?"

His frown deepens again and he lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. I met this girl… Don't you _dare_, Grayson…" I force my knowing smile to return neutral. "My age, dark hair. She didn't give me a last name, and her first name isn't on the list…"

"Why do you want to find her so bad?"

His eyes narrow beneath his mask. "That's none of your business."

"So I guess I'll just make my own conclusions…" I tease, winking at him as I turn back to the computer. I enter the list's program and cut out all the guests that did not show up with plus ones.

"Shut up. I liked her, but our conversation got cut short. That's it."

I cut out those I know that did not bring a teen, narrowing the list further. "Give me some more info. Age? Residency? What was her first name?"

"Er, fifteen to seventeen. I'm not sure about where she lives. Her first name is Dani."

I'm still inputting information when my brain catches up to the name and my hands freeze. I figured Dani had gone to bed when she randomly disappeared, but now that I think about it, it makes more sense that she would draw someone into a conversation for the night.

"What, do you know her?" While reproachful, he also sounds hopeful, inching closer to the computer to look at my progress.

"Um…" My voice comes out a little choked, and I clear my throat, nervous. "Yeah, I think I might. What did you guys do?"

A little more open now that I'd admitted to possibly knowing her, he adds more information. "We snuck upstairs and wandered around. We talked. Her more than me. She has a lot to say."

"About what?"

"Traveling," he answers shortly.

I look up at the ceiling, exasperated. Dani didn't tell me anything about a guy. Does that mean she's hiding something or she just didn't find it an interesting enough story to tell? I remember her saying once that she had never been interested in dating or crushes. She probably just figured Roy was just another one of her acquaintances.

Satisfied with my conclusion, I pull out my phone and text Dani, asking her to come down to the BatCave. Roy is still scrutinizing the guest list, searching for recognition.

"I should've asked her last name," he groans after another minute, turning away from the screen. "If the Titans hadn't…"

"What, if they hadn't had to save the day?" I smirk at his glare and close the list's window. "But there would've been no point. Dani doesn't have a last name."

"Then who was she there with?"

I hum in response, shoving my hands in my pockets.

Roy is about to snap at me for my behavior, but before he gets all the words out I hear the tell-tale whir of the automatic pole as someone descends.

"What do you want," Dani whines as her feet touch down on the ground. She keeps one hand on the pole, ready to leave, and leans forward on her feet, watching me. With a quick glance at Arsenal, she dismisses him completely. "I'm busy."

Arsenal has gone completely still. His slight head movements betray how he assesses her with his eyes, though she doesn't notice. I see his hands tighten slightly in their fists.

"Diiiiick," Dani groans, impatient.

I snap out of my observation. "Sorry. Dani, this is Arsenal. Arsenal, Dani."

Dani nods briefly to him, eyes flicking towards him for only a moment. "Got it. Is that all?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What's your hurry?"

She shrugs in response.

Roy utters his first sound since Dani arrived. "Er…" She glances back at him, examining his now awkward stance. He seems genuinely taken aback, and I find it equally horrific and adorable. He better not develop any kind of crush on her, no matter how cute it might end up. "Hi, it's… Roy."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously?" She glances at me, and I nod an affirmative. Her hand falls from the pole and she leans back, expression pleasantly surprised. "Alright, then, let's go." She puts her fallen hand back on the pole. "I'd race you, but you're in no position to win. So take your time."

She jerks her wrist up and the pole carries her back up, leaving Roy with one hand unconsciously rubbing the back of his head as he gazes up at her. When she's gone, he turns back to me, shock fully returned. "She _lives_ here?! Is she another Robin?!"

I shake my head with a laugh. "No, she's not masked at all. She does like meeting them, though. We met in Bludhaven and I invited her here."

"Wait, she isn't?" I nod. "Then why is she here?"

Jason, who I guess entered the Cave at some point during the conversation, finds this the perfect place to jump in. "She's our mascot."

He's wearing another one of Dani's t-shirts, this one saying **Daddy's Little Superhero**, and is rubbing his oiled hands on a stained rag.

I nod. "She's like Alfred. We can't function without her support."

Jason smirks and points to me, silently agreeing.

Roy shakes his head in disbelief.

I point up at where she'd gone. "You might want to head up. She said take your time, but trust me when I say she didn't mean it."

His expression relaxes somewhat, and he takes hold of the pole and lets it whisk him up. When he's gone, Jason gestures up at him and asks, "What's with him and With-an-i?"

I fold my arms. "They met at the dance and hit it off, apparently."

"They dating?"

"Over my dead body."

"Good."

He continues on his way, shoving the rag in his back pocket as he goes. I glance at my watch and groan, realizing that it's only ten minutes until Batman's thing starts. Still, I can't be too miffed. I get to go as Nightwing, and I've really missed the old black-and-blue suit.

I dress quickly, wanting to check on Dani before I go. Using her huge skylight windows, I skim the side of the mansion and peer inside her room cautiously with a mirror. She and Roy are laid out on the floor with CDs scattered around them. I notice Dani talking animatedly, waving her arms and smiling. I realize she must've been organizing her CD case, which explained her impatience. Dani doesn't often organize or clean anything, so when she does, it's serious.

Satisfied with their choice of activity, I slide back down from where I came and re-enter the BatCave, now three minutes late.

Entering the Zeta Beam I key in the WatchTower's location and listen to the robotic voice announce my departure. My vision pixilates as I'm transported to the WatchTower despite the light filters in my mask, so I find myself momentarily disabled.

Once my eyes clear from their brief blindness, I take note of the milling members and the two I came here for; Batman and Phantom.

Batman came to me earlier today and expressed his concern in short, gruff sentences about Phantom's continued mystery. I didn't really notice, but then again, I'm not on the League. Batman doesn't distrust Phantom for it, as far as I can tell, but is still unsettled by not being in the know. Phantom, no matter how open and trusting, doesn't let his secrets out easily.

Batman wants me to use my uncanny ability of knowing every secret of every hero and befriend Phantom. Kind of manipulative, but not out of character for the Dark Knight. I said I'd be myself, which means I won't be prying, and he'd accepted the compromise.

Phantom is gazing out the window, mind wandering. I greet them both and he slowly turns his attention from the view to me, adding his own greeting and wave.

"Your mission is an arms dealing ring in Saudi Arabia," Batman debriefs, keeping it short. "They're smart; they've managed to stay outside our radar by trading in gradual shipments. Stake them out. Learn their moves, their dealings. Gathering information is the objective of this mission, but if you see an opportunity, shut them down." He nods, letting us know he's finished with the mission. "Additional information has been sent to your comm units for download."

He turns after this, receiving no questions or resistance, and walks away with a sweep of his cape. Phantom offers me a timid smile that I return, gesturing behind me towards the Beam. "If you have the stealth tech installed we can leave right away."

"I can turn invisible," he grumbles.

"Is that a no?"

He rolls his eyes and bumps his fist against the symbol on his chest. Instantly, the white of his suit fades into a dark grey and the green loses its brightness. I chuckle at the ensemble. "What?" Phantom demands, rubbing his forearm self-consciously.

"It does seem kind of pointless. I mean, your hair is still white."

He throws out his arms. "That's what I said!"

"No hoods?"

"No. Hoods mean capes, and as much as I love them, they get in my way. Hoods without capes are just fashion disasters, and I'm already wearing a hazmat suit. I need all the help I can get."

I laugh. "Fair enough. Shall we?"

He nods, following me inside the Beam. We exit through a portal almost fifty miles from our desired destination. Moving quietly, I exit the Zeta area and head over to where transportation is stocked, but Phantom stops me with a hand on my shoulder. "I can fly us there," he offers.

"_You_ carry _me_? No thanks."

His eyebrows lift, unimpressed. "I can handle it. Haven't you read my list of powers?"

I shoot him a look through my mask. "I have this thing about being carried. You understand." Then I continue entering the password, allowing the hidden panel to slide back and reveal a Justice League standard issue motorcycle.

"Okay, no carrying. Can I have a motorcycle?"

I look back at him in confusion. "You can fly."

"But it's a _motorcycle_."

Leading the motorcycle out of its hidden garage, I respond, "Do you even know how to ride one?"

"I've ridden one before. Hijacked one, actually. Fastest bike in the Ghost Zone and I rode it all the way through." He whistles, clapping one of his hands across the other. "Just like a bicycle."

"On the ground?" I vaguely remember a note that the Ghost Zone is nothing but space with floating objects. I doubt there's a road.

His brow furrows. "In the air, on the ground, same difference."

I roll my eyes under my mask and straddle the bike, gunning the engine. "Just keep up."

He mock salutes, apparently not too put out with my refusal, and floats a bit higher in preparation for flight. I hold one finger to my ear, testing the comm link there. "Do you read me?"

"Yep," he chirps. "It's almost like we're right next to each other."

Just like that, the conversation twists back from the mission again. "Are you like this with Batman?"

"Not so much." He grins easily, his face open, and I see why Batman waited this long to care about Phantom's secrecy. He practically leaks pure, innocent energy.

Wait. I turn to him fully before placing my other hand on the motorcycle, scrutinizing him. "Are you… affecting emotions?"

He tilts his head, considering my question. "My aura does," he responds, gesturing to the faint glow largely covered by the stealth tech. "It's a reflection of my core, I think. It's a fairly new power. Very helpful for rescuing people."

I nod hesitantly, wary of anything that can mess with emotions. Phantom's expression grows uncomfortable with my look; the quiet purr of the engine the only sound between us. He eventually clears his throat, looking off into the distance, and I do the same. "It's a good thing you're on our side, then," I conclude at last, placing my other hand on the handlebar and testing the engine. "Let's go."

He flickers out of visibility as I tease the motorcycle into movement, but I trust he's still there and focus on driving. The drive only takes about a half hour, thanks to the smooth terrain and the high-tech engine of the cycle I'm driving. I ditch it about a mile out, concealing it in a dip of the landscape. It wouldn't fool anyone in broad daylight, but I'm content with it for now.

With a flick of my hand, I gesture towards the glow in the distance. It's the only source of electric light for miles, though it's largely concealed by a rock outcropping that the desert never seems to lack a supply of.

"I don't know what you mean by that," Phantom mutters in my commlink. I hear his voice with my other a few yards to my right.

I silently praise Phantom for his honesty. Most unproven heroes, when on a mission with an unfamiliar veteran, will follow gestures and obscure commands blindly, trying to prove their competence and worth. I respect how Phantom treats heroism with the utmost professionalism despite how cocky and juvenile he acts outside missions.

"Just letting you know where I'm planning on going."

I sprint off in that direction, staying low and swinging wide, aimed for the rock outcropping. It's unnerving having to trust that my companion is following without being able to see or hear him, but I ignore the unease.

When I reach the rock, I stay close to its wall and out of the light of the warehouse hidden behind it. "So we spy on them?" Phantom asks quietly, now much closer to my shoulder.

"Let's stakeout up top," I suggest, gesturing up the wall. Batman wanted us to have a boring mission with a long stakeout that would end up in a conversation, and I intend to make the most of it.

"Or we could just… Go in," he counters.

I glance in the direction his voice came from. The tone of his voice made it clear that he doesn't see the point in staking out when we can just wander inside undetected. "How long can you keep invisibility and intangibility up?"

"A really, really long time."

I stay quiet, expecting a number.

Phantom exhales with a hint of frustration. He's clearly used to being around people who are aware of the full extent of his abilities. "I don't know _how_ long, exactly. At least twelve hours, but that was with something a lot bigger than another person so…"

"That works," I interrupt.

Note to self: intimidating Phantom makes him ramble. Since it's looking like we're not going to have a long stakeout heart-to-heart, at least I learned what makes him talk.

"Okay, just don't be weirded out," he warns. I figure he's talking about the feel of his powers, but realize what he truly meant when he takes my hand with his own. I make an involuntary, uncomfortable noise at the back of my throat. "I know, but it's the easiest way to keep contact."

"Just know I'm not interested," I tease as we float (I guess he just floats with people?) out from behind the rock and towards the facility. I notice I can see him now, though we both look almost translucent. I decide to trust that we can't be seen despite what I myself can see, and relax into our cover.

"I have a girlfriend," he hisses, his face coloring with the green ectoplasm he has for blood.

"Really? Anyone I know?"

Our conversation gets quieter as we approach the warehouse that seems eerily quiet. I would've assumed guards, but sometimes they just use cameras. Probably night vision ones; the light comes from the inside, not the outside. Only the windows let out light.

"No," he mutters, defensive.

I hum at his blunt answer. Not a hero, not a villain, so... what? A Lois to his Superman? That's interesting.

We walk-float-through the wall of the warehouse, coming into a large room full of crates I have no doubt are full of weapons. It's just as empty inside as the outside, with no people or movement. Is it abandoned?

Moving closer, I survey the ground and the machines, stooping to scrutinize the dust layer. Not much on panels, but plenty on the ground. Something's not right here. The lights are on, but nobody's here. The heat's off, though, and it feels a lot colder than the outdoors. Phantom and I both have clouds of breath.

Phantom notices his breath, having been watching me intently for instructions, and his eyes dart back up to his surroundings. I feel the cold intensify and Phantom jerks my wrist, sending us both flying backward. He tugs me behind a crate.

I look at Phantom, who's staring back at me with a set expression. I then turn my attention to my free hand, still finding it translucent. Phantom silently shakes his head and gestures with his free hand to look above the crates with him.

We're still invisible… right? But as soon as we rise enough to peer over the boxes, I see the reason for his reaction. The room had been empty when we arrived, but it was now filling with floating, translucent figures.

"They're invisible, like us," Phantom breathes into my ear, so quiet I barely hear him. His breath is cold and sends shivers down my spine. "Ghosts."

"Why would ghosts be involved in a weapon trading ring?" I whisper back, both wondering aloud and searching for an answer from my companion. The ghosts continue to work, unaware of our presence. There are only about two dozen, all dressed in various work outfits and working swiftly.

"This is bad." Phantom's hold tightens, squeezing my hand uncomfortably. "They can see us. We need to go."

"No. Batman said-"

Before I can finish, Phantom and I drop into the ground at dizzying speed. He twists and moves as if he can see through the dirt and rock surrounding us. I find I don't need to breathe in this state but that without the oxygen I can't speak. Phantom flies for nearly ten minutes with a determined glare, ignoring my tugs on his hand. When we exit the ground, we're back at the Zeta location.

Phantom releases me and I call for my borrowed cycle as I fix him with a hard glare. "We don't abandon missions half-way through," I snap, frustrated at his response and my own helplessness to stop him. "We were not discovered or otherwise compromised. You can't always rely on your powers, because there's always going to be a weakness. You have to adapt to the circumstances! No mission plan survives first contact!"

He floats quietly, listening to my reprimands. When I pause, waiting for a response, he asks, "Can I explain?"

Not softening my glare, I nod.

"Those aren't real ghosts," he reveals. "My sense was weird. No tingle, just cold breath. They weren't sentient, did you see that? They were… robots." He rubs the back of his neck, lost in thought. "Not all dead people become ghosts, and not all ghosts are dead people. Ghosts are ectoplasm combined through severe emotion, ideas or beliefs. Sometimes a powerful soul with powerful emotions can draw enough ectoplasm to create a human ghost, like me. Other times, an idea is so strong in this world it manifests in the next. Like eternal youth, or mythological creatures."

He begins floating back and forth, pacing in that ghostly way of his. "Incredibly powerful ideological ghosts can make these… shade creatures. Not real ghosts, just manifestations. But they have to stay by their creator. They're the equivalent of human ghosts making duplicates. But those shades… They were by themselves. Powerful ghosts have a larger range, and it would've had to be outside mine and the shades."

He falls quiet for a moment, so I intervene. "That doesn't explain your reaction."

"Someone's figured out how to make shades out of range. The power involved in that…" He shakes his head. "Huge." He paces again, having stopped at my comment. "Shades are incapable of thought. They do what they're told. But I'm willing to bet they have a response to intruders. They have all the basic ghost powers: flight, invisibility, intangibility, aversion to gravity, and overshadowing."

"Still not seeing why you freaked…"

"If they saw us, I can't guarantee we would be able to get out of there. There could've been more; I can never get a number with those things. Nothing else would happen there anyway. It was just a loading dock."

"You didn't want to get caught?"

"Or sensed. This is incredibly secretive, don't you see? Only another ghost or a human with ghost weapons on them could see what was happening there! I'm the only ghost on your side, and you guys only carry ghost weapons whenever we need them."

His voice is getting more frantic, but not in a panicked way. I can see him connecting dots in his head, and I allow him to continue ranting and rambling. It's a secure area anyway. "I never go on these types of missions. I'm one of the obvious guys. It's like sending Superman or Wonder Woman on a stakeout. This could be going on everywhere! There could be a whole underground network of shades!"

I interrupt, now seeing his point. I mean, he did overreact, but better to overreact now than risk discovery that could speed up unknown plans. "They've created an undetectable, completely subservient race. This is worse than cloning. Are you the only one who can detect them?"

Eyes wide, he nods. "Unless you have the equipment."

"We need to tell Batman."

I knew there was something going on beneath all our noses. These shades... they've been spying on us. They can possess us. This is the cloning mole problem all over again, with an enemy we've barely begun to discover.

For the second time that night, I scoff and mutter to Phantom, "It's a good thing you're on our side."

* * *

**Sorry that took like two weeks. Rude of me, I know. I'll have you know, the next chapter has the first of two revelations from Dani. Vlad will be making an appearance next chapter, and I'm sorry to say to you Vlad fans that he will not be a misunderstood ally in this. He is evil. My apologies, but I wanted _some _angst, you know?**

**Some replies to the comment section! I know y'all have been on the edge of your seats for this.**

**The pairing will be innocent, I promise. Very "stolen glances" and "hiding chaste blushes" and all that. Remember, Dani is only three years old mentally, though her body is mature. Romance and crushes and all that is very new to her. Plus, Roy always struck me as the awkward at love thing. But who knows, I'm just playing around with this.**

**It's true Vlad could've messed with her DNA, but I do not have the kind of understanding necessary to even pretend to know how that would work. So either way, it works for this story.**

**Dani doesn't technically exist, but in the next chapter she does take Dick's last name in order to get a license. So, if that counts?**

**That's all! As always, comments are deeply appreciated and ****cherished. Really good ones go on my tombstone ;)**


	22. Chapter 22

With a sharp tug on the scissors, I complete the curl in the ribbon. It falls back into the cluster I'd created, finishing up my wrapping for the year. Satisfied at my handiwork, I close the scissors and toss them back into the pile of wrapping paper scraps, ribbon, and tape I had accumulated since I started.

None of the presents are marked since everyone would know they were from me based on the wrapping paper. Most of the paper I was able to find in a holiday store, but some were custom ordered. For Bruce, I had given him two presents wrapped in Batman-themed paper. Tim got four with Red Robin paper, Damian five in Robin, Jason eight covered in Red Hoods and red bats, Barbara three in Batgirl, Alfred three in paper covered with little dusters and As, and finally Dick's, with a grandstand of six presents and Nightwing wrapping paper.

I got the most for Jason because I just kept finding things I liked. He's the easiest to shop for since he has an ironic, sarcastic sense of humor I reflect. And because he likes me enough to use the stuff I get him.

The other pile of presents is for my family outside the Manor. I got two for Roy, stacked on top of each other in paper covered with bows and arrows and tied together with red string. Then, in a more obscure paper that I decided on for anonymity from the bats, were my presents for Danny and his friends.

I wrapped Danny's in plain black with white ribbon, Sam's in black with purple ribbon, Tucker's in black with red, and then Jazz's in plain white paper covered in rainbow stickers. Danny's still felt too close to the color scheme of Danny Phantom for my taste, so I covered his present in white star stickers, so the ribbon wouldn't look out of place.

Now content with each present, I stand up and survey my room. "Maybe I did spend way too much time on Christmas," I mutter, eyeing my pile of gifts that stand in an ocean of scraps of paper and discarded ribbon.

"Indeed," Alfred's voice comes from behind me.

I turn around with a sheepish smile.

"The other occupants of this household were getting concerned with your isolation," Alfred informs me, walking further into my room and raising an eyebrow at the mess. "I was volunteered to check on your well-being."

"I was wrapping presents," I explain as if it's not obvious. "The sheer amount of secrecy I had to use in order to keep the presents hidden was insane. There was no way I was having any of them coming up here and spying." To emphasize I wave my hands towards my blackened out ceiling.

He approaches my pile and lifts an eyebrow at the paper.

I shrug. "I think it's funny."

He nods, an amused smile tugging at the lines in his face. "The tree you decorated in the Cave now seems less of an enigma."

"Yeah, I figured you guys wouldn't want a whole bunch of superhero presents without tags underneath the Wayne tree during the Silver Bell dance. But I still wanted them under a tree."

Plus, buying superhero ornaments was one of the ultimate highlights of my Christmas shopping. It was kind of a nightmare otherwise. It spanned over five grueling days, three of which I was accompanied by Roy and the other two I braved alone. This household celebrates Christmas wholeheartedly, and I was more than eager enough to participate in their tradition.

Alfred notices my small pile of separate gifts and gestures to them with a tilt of his head.

"For Roy," I supply, then look away. "Among some other people."

It'd been almost seven months since I first met Dick, and I still found myself holding my tongue about Danny. But that was about to change.

I'd visited Danny twice since moving here, and we sent emails back and forth that I made every single bat swear up and down that they wouldn't read. I knew they wouldn't, since Dick and Jason, the two more trusting brothers, kept the others in check.

A couple of weeks ago, Danny mentioned in his email that he would be attending the Christmas dance being hosted in the Wayne household on December 22. In his short time as an inventor, he'd already created three items he patented, two of which were not available to the public. Wayne Enterprises invited him to improve relations.

Dick explained that Danny Fenton's aerochargable battery and bio-safe adhesives were both items that could be invaluable to both the company and their night lives. It frustrated the family how secretive the Fentons are, as both Danny and his parents refrain from public appearances and often secretly patent their inventions.

However, Danny had decided to accept the invitation to this particular ball. Sam had been nagging him, he wrote, about me introducing him to my family. We both recognize that in doing so, it meant explaining my clone status. But it'd been seven months. I felt that Dick and the others deserved to know part of my past. Danny still wasn't ready to come out to the League as half-human, but he's fine with them knowing his human self has a clone.

"Ah, yes, your other family. When do you plan on delivering these?"

I drop my gaze, unsure whether or not to spoil the surprise. I decide against it. "Not sure, yet. Maybe Christmas Day." He raises an eyebrow and I quickly follow up with, "Just the afternoon. It always snows in their town. Gotham doesn't snow." My voice falls nostalgic, and I quickly clear my throat. "Could you help me transfer these? Some are breakable."

He nods curtly, stooping to stack a few into a more transportable pile. I follow with my own stack, and we make our way to the BatCave. After arranging the presents under the tree, I glance around at the empty Cave. "Where is everyone? It's not that late."

"Master Bruce and Dick are with the League, investigating that shade matter," Alfred informs me. "Master Tim is with the Titans and Master Damian with the Teen Titans."

I frown. Danny and Dick, at different times and in different ways, had both informed me of the shade threat. Despite their discovery of them having occurred almost three months ago, little more had been found. They increased ghost security that detected an estimated 70% of the shades and had uncovered several rings full of them, but nothing more about their creation or orders.

Danny mentioned investigations into the Ghost King and Nocturne, both of which created shades at a long distance. The Ghost King's were attributed to the connection he had to the Zone and the power from the combined forces of the Ring of Rage and the Crown of Fire. Nocturne created shades through the dreams of other people. Every person he put to sleep would give him enough reach to create another autonomous shade. Danny was a lot more technical about it, but the bottom line was that power on this scale should not exist in circumstances such as these.

As a result, ghost tech was installed in the Cave and left the Manor grounds secure, but the biggest problem was that it could only be installed in so many places. Justice League members couldn't all wear protective gear all of the time.

Which is why I had Danny create a little something for all the Bat members. One of each different present held a ghost detection system that could be installed along the lining of their utility belts. It was cutting edge tech that Danny created with Tucker just for this purpose. They were still calibrating the programming, which is why I didn't give it to the vigilantes straight off, but Tuck swore he'd be done by Christmas Day.

I picked them up from him a couple of weeks ago. They were incredibly thin, flexible pieces of metal that looked almost like motherboards with their wiring. Danny explained them briefly to me, but I was lost halfway in and suggested he send me the user's manual. He, of course, didn't have one, but he tried to explain it over email anyway.

Alfred and I make a couple more trips to finish transporting our gifts into the Cave before we begin cleaning my room. I insisted he didn't need to help but he stubbornly ignored it.

"Are you planning on attending the dance tomorrow?" he asks conversationally as he rolls up the paper. "I understand you didn't enjoy the last event."

I roll my eyes up to the ceiling. Two different events happened since the first where I met Roy. They were both charity events that I greatly despised. No one interesting attended, and the only reason I survived the latter of the two was because Jason attended as a disguised waiter and we trolled everyone else in the Manor for the night. Unfortunately, my presence raised questions and brought me into the spotlight. While the media didn't exactly connect me to the Waynes, it definitely drew the line between me and Dick.

This upset me the most because I was forced to get a last name. I ended up taking Dick's, though I received offers from everyone else that I was allowed to take theirs. It was actually very touching, but I had wanted to include Danny's in my name, and I wasn't ready for an unveiling at the time. For now, the elites of Gotham know me as the illegitimate sister of Dick Grayson.

My driver's license, which I'd received a little over two weeks ago, read "Dani Grayson". I had opted out of telling him about my full first name, not that I expected him to never consider it. Still, despite missing Fenton, I like it a heck of a lot more than Danielle Masters. Shudder.

Mentally, I consider myself Dani Fenton-Grayson-Drake-Wayne-Todd, even though it's a mouthful and kind of convoluted. I like it though. It has character and makes me feel connected.

"I am," I allow with a secret smile. "Expect me there with bells on."

"Oh, dear," he laments, scooping up the rolls of paper.

After we finish cleaning my room, I head to bed since it's quite late and there's nobody home to annoy. Roy is with Tim and the Titans, leaving me friendless and alone. I dress in my pajamas, which consists of shorts and my Fenton University T-shirt underneath a worn blue hoodie and crawl into my bed. It's firm, but I've never liked soft beds. Curling up in a blanket, I stare up at the sky.

I'm too excited about tomorrow to sleep.

Fishing my phone from my mess of blankets, I open my contacts and select "Cousin" in my contacts. It rings three times before Danny picks up. "Hey. What's up?"

"You're still coming tomorrow, right? I'm so excited. I can't sleep! Are you already in Gotham?"

The possibility hadn't occurred to me before but now had me squirming in excitement.

Danny laughs before answering both questions. "Yes and no."

"Awww…"

There's muffled talking on the other side of the line and Danny speaks to me in a hurried tone. I recognize the other voice as Bruce and anticipate Danny's next words. "Sorry, I'll have to talk to you tomorrow. I'm in the middle of something."

"Yeah, okay."

The line goes dead.

I sigh, dropping the phone off the bed. "I should've figured he was with the League."

Grumbling, I turn in my blankets and force my eyes to shut.

* * *

Without Barbara to help me, it takes me twice as long to struggle into the forest green dress. This one falls in one length just past my knees, made of heavier fabric that doesn't billow as I walk. It has half sleeves that have loose fabric hanging from the elbow and a V-neckline that accentuates the matching black and green necklace. For the shoes, I wear simple green flats with a dark black design, still adamantly against heels.

Barbara bought matching everything for each dress to make it impossible for me to mess up the ensemble, which I didn't realize I appreciated until now. Still, my hair is going to pose a problem.

When we bought this one, Barbara mentioned I should have my hair up to show off the cross in the back of the dress that shows off my shoulder blades (I guess shoulder blades are hot?). I've never been able to manage more than a ponytail, though.

Ah, well, it'll have to do. I pull my hair into a high ponytail and push my bangs away from my face with green crystal clips.

With one nod at my reflection, I leave my room and head to the room the brothers are notorious for hiding out in. Roy couldn't come to this dance, having some kind of obligation with a friend or family or something, but I don't anticipate this ball being boring. Giddy, I check my watch. Twelve minutes past seven. Technically, it's already started.

"Hey, With-an-i," Jason greets when I come into the room. I nod a reply and bounce on the pads of my feet, grinning.

Tim glances up at me from his phone, suspicious. "What's with you?"

"It's the Christmas spirit," I answer, smiling brightly.

"Mmph." He returns to his phone.

I peek out into the room through the little slit in the wall, surveying the guests. Not here as far as I can see. At least not yet.

The door opens and an arguing Damian and Dick enter, closing the door behind them. They die down soon enough since they can never really fight with each other for that long. Dick smiles at me. "Nice dress."

Damian nods to me. "Green is not your color." Well, he's right about that. In this form, at least.

"Rude," Dick interrupts, sending a light glare to his brother.

"I know, but I figured it's more festive than blue."

Damian narrows his eyes at my good mood. "What's with you?" Tim glances up at the same question he'd asked, narrowing his eyes when he spots Damian.

Unable to contain it any longer, I blurt out, "I have a surprise for you guys tonight!" I gain attention from all the brothers, even if it's half-hearted in Damian and Tim's case. "But we have to go out there."

Tim groans but stands from the couch, slipping his phone into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "Well, it had to happen sometime."

I lead them out, bouncing on the balls of my feet. Once inside the ballroom, the brothers migrate to the edge of the crowd and clump together, very similar to their usual routine in an event like this.

"What is it?" Jason asks, drawing my attention back from watching the crowd.

"I have someone for you to meet~" I sing, still bouncing in excited energy. Tim asks who it is, but I lose interest in them as I've spotted a certain black-haired someone from across the room. "Be right back!"

I dart into the room, careful to avoid running into people. The room's mostly clear for now, as most groups cluster at the edges of the room and around tables. I appear at Sam's shoulder without warning, causing her to startle at my sudden appearance. "Ack, Dani! You scared me!"

She nods to her parents and relents at my tugging, following me out onto the floor. "Where's Danny?" I ask, still looking around the room.

She rolls her eyes. "Are you kidding me? This thing started twenty minutes ago. He won't be here until at least 7:45."

I sigh. "Shoulda known."

"Probably."

We reach the boys, who share confused glances with each other. "This is Sam," I introduce. "Sam, this is Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian."

"That's a lot of names, but okay." She takes Dick's hand and shakes it, smiling politely.

"Nice to meet you," Dick greets, smiling warmly. Then his eyes flick to me. "But, um, why are we meeting her?"

Sam grins, flashing me a look, and I return the smile twofold. "This is my brother-slash-cousin's girlfriend," I reintroduce. "He's coming, but he's not here yet."

Sam nods, confirming this. Tim and Damian look a lot more interested, now that I've revealed tonight's true guest. Sam's purse buzzes and she fishes out her phone. "This is him, give me a sec."

She turns away, one hand plugging her open ear, and wanders off in search of somewhere quieter. "Where are- Of course it was a good reason…"

"Really? We get to meet your mysterious other family?" Dick teases, bumping my shoulder.

"Yep! He finally agreed. Thanks in no small part to Sam."

Jason laughs as I start bouncing again. "With-an-i, you've got to calm down. You're going to give yourself a headache."

"You're going to give me a headache," I grouch, but my smile still won't falter. "One sec, I'm going to grab Sam again."

I leave their group again, really just needing to move, and glance around for Sam.

Instead, I catch sight of a person I hoped I'd never see again. In an instant, all my excitement is replaced with dread, and my feet falter. I almost trip, but someone nearby catches my hand and steadies me before I can fall. "Are you okay?" he asks, looking at me earnestly. I don't see his face, but I thank him and step back.

"It's the heat… I'm going to…" I turn on my heel and stalk away. It really is too hot in here. I feel suffocated. I push past people and break out the door, sending the password to the diligent guard and stumbling through the hallway. My feet aren't working, my breath is coming too fast, and I'm just… so… hot…

I stumble into the end room, which is kind of a switch-off between two hallways. I always thought it was a useless room-what, do rich people need to rich between walking through one hallway before the next? But I find it safe. This entire section is guarded at the ends, so this place is empty, and it has two exits.

I gasp, my hands grabbing my arms so I can hug myself. "You're okay, Dani. Chill out. He's rich, of course he'd be here…"

Slowly, my breathing levels. I'm fine. He probably didn't even see me. He probably doesn't even care that I still exist. I'm fine. I have Batman and his whole family, and Sam's here and Danny's on his way…

Still shaky but now under control, I stand up fully, only to find…

Vlad Masters.

Everything freezes.

I stop breathing.

He smiles easily, almost inviting. "Hello, my dear."

I try to swallow but find my mouth dry.

He strides forward leisurely, checking his cufflinks in a calm, patronizing manner. "I came to say hello to Daniel, but I didn't expect to see you here."

I force my legs to move and I stumble back from his approaching form.

He laughs as if he made a joke. "Oh, what am I saying? Of course I knew! If you wanted to keep it a secret, perhaps you shouldn't have gone public."

"I-" I continue backing away from him, my brain still shut down. My watch… I reach with one hand towards it, but faster than I can track Vlad grabs my arm and yanks it away from my wrist. His other hand disappears only briefly before he thrusts an object into my stomach.

My world shatters for a minute as electricity screams through me, setting my nerves on fire for a never-ending second. I hear my scream through veiled consciousness and feel myself drop to the ground. The pain fades to sickness in my stomach and a pounding in my head, leaving me enough function to stagger back to my feet. "What… What did you do to me?"

He tucks the item back out of sight. "It simply took away your powers, my dear. Of course, you're barely a threat at all with them, but I can't have you exposing me now, can I?"

I reach for my watch again, this time faster. Which one was the panic button? Panic, panic…

Vlad grabs my wrist again and tsks, shaking his head. "Don't," he warns. I feel his fingers on my skin before they go through my wrist, taking my watch with it. He tosses it haphazardly over his shoulder, sealing my throat as my only means of contact is thrown out of reach. "Daniel isn't here," he sneers, stepping forward as I stagger back, favoring my left wrist. "No reason to invite him when this is between you and me."

"Why do you care about me so much?" I plead in desperation, tripping over my feet and stumbling half to the ground before I catch myself.

He looks down at my crouched form in disgust. He stoops down, his eyes narrowed and his lips upturned in a sadistic grin. "You are a mistake that I intend to correct."

My breathing freezes again, and I wait for the first move so I can do something. All that training, the fighting, sparring… It has to count for something, and it has to count right now. His hands come forward in a blur, grabbing at my shoulders. He's so fast…

I only manage to launch back, and instead of grabbing me he pushes me backward. My legs scramble for purchase but I only propel myself into the wall.

He advances again but I throw myself to the side, rolling towards the wall so I can use my hands to push myself back to my feet. Vlad recovers much faster than I do and is in front of me in an instant. I try to move and dodge his inhumanly fast movements, but he seizes my shoulders and throws me to the side.

My back connects with the wall with enough impact to send vibrations through my limbs, but the real pain comes when I land on the desk. It's full of decorative ornaments and other trinkets, several of which shatter on my impact. My tongue is clipped by my teeth and I feel my mouth fill with blood.

Glass bites into my side and my hand as I struggle to right myself. An impact like that usually wouldn't bother me so bad, but he did say he took away my powers…

I inhale sharply, realizing my only way to communicate is by screaming. I'm in no condition to fight this guy, and I already know from my previous experience with him that he has no reservations about killing me.

His hand connects with my neck, forcing me back against the wall. "Don't even-" he snarls, crushing my throat to silence my words. Panic unlike anything I've ever felt courses through me, tinting my vision and causing a roar in my ears.

I do not go out like this! Cowering and pleading to anyone, especially not this man. My hand tightens around a shard of something glass, and I don't think twice. My strength is being sapped from my veins as the oxygen depletes, so I only have the strength for one blow.

My hand moves of its own accord, survival instincts demanding this hand to release my airway. The glass slams into his wrist, right above where his suit jacket has ridden up. The glass cracks in my hand, sending a shot of pain up my arm, but it does the same to Vlad.

"Butter Biscuits!"

With the enraged and pained shout, he releases me, examining his wrist tenderly. I let out an inhuman sound as air rushes inside me at the same time my body calls for a coughing fit.

I stumble off the desk, falling painfully and in a heap. Vlad growls and forces me up by grabbing the fabric on my shoulders. He slams me against the wall with red eyes, glaring at me as he increases pressure on my shoulders. "Why, Danielle, that's-"

I don't let him finish. I collect the blood that had failed to stop flowing in my mouth and spit it into his face. Stupid, stupid, I know, but he's going to kill me either way and this way at least I get the mental image of blood running down the side of his nose before I die.

"That was very stupid, Danielle. I do hope…"

He's interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open. He narrows his eyes at me before whirling around, one hand on my shoulder and the other using his sleeve to wipe at his face. "Ah, the wards of Bruce Wayne." His grip squeezes my shoulder so hard I feel the bones grind together, and I grit my teeth together, trying to give Vlad the opportunity to keep talking. It's obvious he doesn't know I live here. By some miracle, he'd missed the connection between Dick Grayson and his residence in Wayne Manor and I was in no hurry to correct him.

"Your security is not what it used to be, as you can clearly see. This little thief-" He tugs me from the wall and into view of Dick and Damian, both with hardened expressions. I'd seen them both like this when they are so incredibly enraged it was as if they were wiped of emotion. "Was in the process of-"

"Release her," Damian commands in two sharp, clipped words. I see the storm in his eyes and Vlad no doubt can as well, as he loosens his grip on my shoulder in surprise. "Now."

"Very well," Vlad sniffs with the air of someone who had done a favor and was being misinterpreted for it. He cares more about his reputation than killing me, and so his hand drops off my shoulder without any malice, though I feel the thrum of anger and power underneath his careful facade.

Now released, I tumble forward as fast as my disorientation can manage. I almost trip over the side of an armchair and Dick strides forward, carefully catching my semi-outstretched hands and pulling me behind him. "Damian, call security. Dani, are you alright?"

I catch Vlad's surprise around Dick's human barrier. It quickly fades to resignation and he lets out an annoyed sigh. "I see."

In a single swift movement, he turns on his heel and rushes for the opposite door. I feel Damian tense beside me, the phone dropping from his hand as he prepares to launch after him. I grab him around his chest as he pushes off and I'm thrown to the side, barely keeping my balance.

"Dani, let go!" he shouts, easily disentangling my arms. I make a desperate grab for him again and seize his arm.

"No, he'll kill you!" I cry out, probably still not thinking clearly. He twists out of my poorly placed grip. "Don't go, he'll…"

Damian runs forward anyway, ignoring my pleads. Dick calls after him, too, but Damian follows through without a glance back, jaw set.

"Dani, he'll be fine. What about you? What's hurt?"

"I thought… I th-" Thought that I was safe, thought I wasn't a concern of Vlad's, thought that I was traveling, not running from…

My mind, having been running in circles trying to understand what was happening finally shuts down, collapsing. I don't… I don't know what I thought. It doesn't matter.

I was wrong.

* * *

**Welcome back to another exciting installment of this fanfiction! That was a lot of angst and I hope I... encapsulated (?) it correctly. Thank you for reading, and I am ever-more grateful for reviews. **

**Let's answer some, shall we?**

**First off, thank you for pointing out my "close range shade" idea was off from canon. However, just because that's what the characters have decided they are doesn't mean that's what I'm intending them to be. Still, I hadn't realized the two exceptions to the rule before I posted it (I was thinking of YoungBlood/Ember/Walker). **

**~Disclaimer Disclaimer~**


	23. Chapter 23

In the seven months I'd known Dani, never had I seen her in such a state of panic. Damian left and she just… broke. I'd seen it plenty of times before, with my particular occupations, but I'd never expected to see Dani go through it. This... this is _Dani_. The Dani that is only inconvenienced by mortal danger. Almost losing her life shocks her about as much as a jump scare.

Her legs crumble beneath her and I attempt to catch her, but she cries out in pain when I grab her. Her arm is bloody, her dress stained dark wherever the blood is coming from. She struggles out of my grasp, sinking to the floor and curling her legs up to her chest so she can bury her face in her knees.

Several trails of blood trace red paths down her leg, thick and flowing. I imagine they're coming from her side, but can't coax Dani from her ball enough to properly examine them. I see her skin swelling and reddening around her left wrist where her watch used to be and around her neck. I feel bile rise in my throat but I push the reaction away. I'm not her brother right now. I can't be.

I settle down beside her, making my movements loud enough for her to track. I doubt she even notices, though. Her whole body is shaking, probably in or trying to come out of shock. "Is anything broken?" I murmur softly.

She doesn't seem to hear me. Gently, I attempt to pull her arm away from her knees but she grips them tighter. "Don't," she forces out from her chattering teeth.

Instead, I shrug out of my jacket and drape it around her shoulders. I then attempt to pull her into a hug, but she struggles out of it violently and starts sobbing into her knees. "I thought," she tries again.

Damian returns then, breath coming faster than normal and barely contained rage dancing in his eyes. "He got away," he snarls. I can't decide whether I'm relieved or disappointed. On one hand, I'm a hero, on the other, I wish I _wasn't _right now.

"He's gone," I relay to Dani gently, trying to de-escalate her panic, but she starts shaking her head vigorously.

"No, he's not, he's not, he's… probably not." She gasps, trying to get air in despite her panic. Instead of calming her down, it only starts wiring her back up. "Probably isn't… Not…"

"Shh. Breathe." I try again to touch her by putting a hand on her back but she jerks away. Damian approaches, hands clenched and pointedly avoiding looking at Dani.

"Who _was _that?" he growls at me.

I glance back at Dani but shake my head. I know, of course. It's Vlad Masters. He comes to these things every once in a while. He always gave me a weird vibe, but never enough of one for me to lead an investigation. Bruce did, and while Masters used questionable methods to take over businesses, there was no evidence of crime.

"What the-"

I glance up at Jason, who is now standing in the doorway and surveying the damage of the room. "With-an-i?" He steps forward, but I warn him back with a shake of my head. "What happened?" he asks, voice low. Dani draws herself tighter, but I'm at a loss at how to comfort her.

Tim follows in after him, narrowing his eyes as he scans the room.

I knew they would be here eventually. After Sam came back without Dani, she'd searched the ballroom with her eyes with growing worry. When she couldn't find either Dani nor Vlad Masters, she'd turned to us and told us we needed to find Dani that second with an urgency she wouldn't explain. Then she disappeared into the crowd, saying she needed to find someone else.

Damian and I left the ballroom and followed Dani's watch tracker, but we'd gotten here too late. Or right on time, depending on how you looked at it. I guess Jason and Tim had finally grown more curious about what was taking us so long than they were interested in the dance.

"Who did this?" Tim seethes, eyes flashing dangerously.

My gaze darts between my three enraged brothers. This is so not what we need right now."He's gone," I answer levelly. "We're not worrying about him right now." I stare each of them down and they reluctantly stand down from immediate action.

"He's… not…" Dani tries again, but the words are broken and don't come out right. Jason, Tim, and Damian all look physically pained by her disarray. None of us had ever seen her like this before. She is always so happy, and this evening she was so excited…

Merry $# !*$ Christmas.

"He is," Damian insists.

The door, which Tim had closed behind him, opens again, this time much more timidly. I glance up at the sound. Okay, there are far too many people. I understand that I can't get Jason, Tim, and Damian to leave, but we are not adding to the audience for this.

My brothers agree.

"Private room," Tim snaps at the intruder.

"You're not even allowed back here," Jason follows up.

I glance up when I sense the person continuing inside regardless. The words I had gathering in my mouth fall away as I take in the young adult male stepping carefully inside. He stops a few feet out from Tim, eyes fixed on Dani but wary of the rest of us.

He looks…

He and Dani are identical. The shape of their face, the placement of their features, the color and sparkle of their eyes, the skin tone, the hair color and unruliness… Other than their gender, and what appears to be a couple years' difference, nobody would be able to tell them apart.

This pauses the others, too, but the newcomer doesn't acknowledge them anymore.

"Dani," he prompts softly.

Dani inhales sharply, pausing in her sobs even though her body continues to shake. Slowly, she raises her head, her face shining with tears in a way that breaks my heart. "Is he-he gone?"

"Yeah," he answers, coming closer when no one moves to stop him. Damian narrows his eyes when Dani finally accepts this and nods to let the newcomer know she understands. The male Dani crouches lower so they're eye level. "He is," he confirms. Then he reaches for her. Before I can warn against attempting to touch her, Dani has shot forward and buried herself in his embrace, gasping breaths through her receding panic.

The guy fluidly transfers his weight to the ground so that he's sitting, rubbing her back and pulling my suit jacket closer around her shoulders. Nobody says anything as she slowly calms down until her breaths come normally and the panic is subdued.

The silence is heavy until Dani mutters inside the other guy's arms, incoherent to all of us except her intended recipient. His heavily concerned expression turns sheepish. "I know," he responds with a nervous chuckle. "I really shoulda gone with Sam…"

Dani nods against his chest.

I gesture to Dani's injuries and the guy nods, using one of his hands to reach into his suit jacket. He takes out a tin about the size of a cell phone. Positioning it with one hand, he flicks off the top to reveal little compartments full of green-tinted gel.

"Biodegradable, platelet-infused adhesives," he informs our wary expressions.

"Daniel Fenton," Tim concludes immediately after.

He nods. "You can call me Danny, though."

A muffled snicker comes from Dani's buried head. "Hey, you stole my name, not the other way around," he defends with an amused tone. He peels off one of the alcohol swabs on the opposite lid and shifts Dani in his grasp, exposing her injured arm. With his chin balanced on her head, he moves my jacket to the side and cleans her arm expertly. He focuses on the scariest gash, the one painting the rest of her arm red. Dani whines in protest, still refusing to come out of Danny's embrace.

"Who was that?" Damian finally asks again, softer this time. Danny glances up at him briefly and then back at Dani, who seems to be ignoring the impending conversation.

Danny lets out a heavy sigh as he peels off one of his strips and holds it up to measure it against Dani's cut. "His name is Vlad Masters," he responds after a short pause. I note his untensed muscles and resigned anger, more tired than active. He kneads the gel in his hand, stretching it thinner to expand to the size of the cut. Without reacting to the four gazes watching his every move, Danny presses it into the wound and smoothes it out, pushing out the air bubbles with the pad of his thumb.

It's more clear pressed to her skin as it is inside the tin, and I note the bleeding stops immediately.

Danny doesn't say any more about Masters, more focused on Dani's arm. Tim moves to ask another question but Danny interrupts before he can say more than a couple of words. "Hey, I know you guys have a lot of questions, and that was what tonight was all about, but maybe we should hold off until after everyone from the party leaves. Dani can get changed and… stuff…"

He trails off, awkward now that he acknowledges all the attention on him.

"That's a good idea," I agree immediately. "We've been away from the ballroom too long anyway."

"Someone should stay with them," Jason argues when I stand and usher them out with flapping hands. "In case he comes back."

"He won't come back," Danny states with confidence. "It's not Vlad's style. 'Sides…" His eyes glimmer dangerously for a moment as he glances down at the injured girl in his arms. "He wouldn't dare." His carefree expression returns and he smiles. I can't help but feel he's not taking this seriously enough, even if the tightness in his mouth and the almost imperceptible shake of his hands say otherwise.

Danny replaces the lid on his metal tin and slips it back into his pocket. Carefully, he slides his arm under Dani's legs and stands, easily taking her weight. I supervise a reluctant Tim, Damian and finally Jason as they file out of the room.

When I turn back, Danny is struggling with his phone, trying to read something over the load in his arms. "Could you let Sam in?" he asks me with a nervous grin. "She said she's having trouble with the guards at the doors."

"How did you get in?" I ask, growing curious with the boy Danny now that Dani seems to have calmed down.

He smirks but offers no more explanation.

I nod, turning back to the hallway, hesitating before I can fully leave. "Thanks. For coming."

"Thank you yourself," he responds. I hear him muttering into Dani's ear and her muffled replies, which I assume are directions to her room.

On my way back inside, I intercept Sam as she argues with one of the guards and allow her in. "Is Danielle okay?" she asks, and at this point, I'm too tired to be surprised at Dani's name.

"She's injured, but she should be fine."

Sam nods, mouth pressed in a hard line. "Fruitloop," she mutters under her breath as she hurries down the hall where I'd come from.

Immediately after re-entering the ballroom I'm flocked by guests-mostly young women- who ask where I'd been and where my jacket had gone.

Not in the mood for a party anymore, I shut their questions down as politely as I can manage and head back to the brooding table of Waynes. Tim is absent-mindedly toying with his phone, probably researching Masters. Jason and Damian are showing aggression with glares and clenched fists.

I join their table and sink heavily into a chair, unable to get the image of Dani out of my head. I'd never seen her so… unraveled. So panicked. I'd never even seen her scared before. If Masters scared Dani and nothing else did…

"What's wrong?" Bruce demands, suddenly behind my chair. He doesn't have to explain how he'd noticed our disappearance and our melancholy attitudes, nor his suspicions that it had to do with Dani's appearance. I already knew. We worked together for a long time.

"Dani was attacked," I respond in a resigned tone. "By Vlad Masters. She's in her room now with Danny Fenton."

"They have the same name," Damian exclaims in an angry tone, slamming his hand on the table. "We didn't even notice."

"Lots of people have the name Danny," Tim sighs. "I think what we should be wondering about is _why_ they have the same name."

"And why they look identical," Jason adds as if Tim had purposefully left it out.

"Did you see him?" I ask Bruce.

"No."

"Just picture Dani as a boy and there you go," Tim offers, not taking his eyes off his phone. "Hey, were any more Fentons invited?"

"Only one RSVPed," Bruce replies. "Why aren't any of you with her?"

I glance at my watch, finding two more hours until we can realistically expect the house to be cleared out. "We're waiting for the party to end."

"All of you?"

We all grumble affirmation.

Bruce hums softly and walks off, apparently satisfied with our reasoning. We fall back into the reverie we were in previously, occasionally offering another observation before falling silent. None of us put forth theories about Danny and Dani, though I'm sure we're all making our own.

They could be twins or siblings that were separated at birth. Maybe Vlad kidnapped her and raised her as his own? But why would he want Danny if he had Dani? Wouldn't he just take Danny in the first place?

Maybe they're doppelgangers and Vlad took Dani because she looked so much like Danny. But the resemblance… It's just too close.

The most likely was the cousin theory; it's obvious they're related, and cousins can look so similar they could be twins. It still didn't fit right, but it would make sense. What I most want to know is how this changes the story Dani told Jason all those months ago.

"Why didn't she tell us? If we'd known she was in danger…" Jason trails off after his sudden outburst, sinking back into his seat.

"We would've protected her," Tim answers in a defeated tone. "Which is probably exactly what she was trying to avoid."

"I blame you, Grayson," Damian announces, folding his arms tightly.

"When aren't you blaming Grayson?" Tim refutes half-heartedly.

We fall back into silence and ride out the rest of the ball, desperately trying and failing to re-enter the dance. Every attempt resulted in a cycle around the room that ended back at the table. Normally, every one of us would've gone to hunt down Vlad, but there are unknown factors that loom over the whole situation, keeping us from acting.

When Bruce finally starts ushering people out, we leave our sulk-table and head back to our respective rooms. I'm the fastest in changing and head up to Dani's room before all three of my brothers.

I pause when I hear yelling. From where I am, I can't hear words but place Dani's voice as she screams at who I'm assuming is Danny. The desperate, frantic voice sounds nothing like the mischievous, sassy tone I'd come to expect from her. Danny yells back, their voices mingling until hers dies down. His lowers with hers, and I lose both their voices.

I continue up her staircase, following the light coming from her room. When I reach the apex of the stairway, I notice the ruined dress tossed to the side and other various clothing articles strewn about the room. Books are lying open like they'd been thrown, and Sam is laying on the floor by the bed, lazily flipping through one. She's on her stomach, her bare feet up in the air and a bored expression on her face as she watches the black-haired pair across the room.

Danny had tackled Dani on the ground, pinning her hands beside her head. She's now in sweats and a white and green T-shirt, her hair braided in a style I'd never seen on her before. Danny and Dani hold each other's gazes in a hard stare until she finally closes her eyes and nods.

Danny nods in return and releases her, getting up and offering her a hand.

She accepts it and allows him to help her stand. Dani glances at me and bows her head a little. "Hey," she greets softly.

"What… happened?" I gesture between the two.

"Don't worry about it," they answer together.

I fold my arms.

"Dani wanted to leave but Danny convinced her not to," Sam answers from the floor, not looking up from her book. "With lots of screaming and judo kicking."

Dani's face heats up. "I don't judo kick."

For a second I'm sure my heart has stopped beating. "Leave?"

Dani's face blanches and she looks down, avoiding my gaze.

Danny looks at her for a moment before meeting my eyes. "She's not going to anymore." His head tilts when Dani still doesn't look up. "Look, Vlad… He knows she lives here now. That was her argument, anyway…" He grows nervous under my stare again and fidgets with his sleeve.

I fix my gaze on Dani's head, earnest. "Can we keep you safe?" I stress, carefully gauging Danny and Sam's response to my question. They both look away, frowning.

Dani looks at me with earnest eyes. "No."

"But _we_ can," Danny argues, gesturing between us. He gently places his hands on her shoulders, carefully easing pressure when she winces. They look at each other again, and I feel displaced in the situation, almost like a third wheel. I realize as they silently converse with their eyes that they are connected on a level I'd only ever achieved with Batman, Barbara, and Damian.

Dani relents once more, bowing her head. "Have a little faith, Dani," Danny teases, leaving her and going to sit by Sam. "When have I ever let you down?"

Dani rolls her eyes, and I take that as a sign that the tension has broken for the night. It's not gone, but it isn't quite as intense. I take this as the time to comment on Dani's t-shirt. "Fenton University?"

Her hand goes to the logo, almost obscuring it completely. Then, noticing she had done it, she carefully lowers it. "I think they're ironic," she comments faintly, not quite behind her own words.

Sam smirks from her spot on the floor.

I hear footsteps on the stairs and turn towards the doorway, throwing a glance over my shoulder to Dani for permission to invite them in. She nods, looking up at the sky in resignation. I beckon my brothers inside and they join me, all scanning Danny and Sam in suspicion and Dani in concern.

"Sit down," she instructs, waving her arm to the ground. Then she gestures to Danny. "Stand up."

I sit cross-legged on the floor, but my brothers don't follow.

"How are your injuries?" Tim asks, voice tighter than normal.

Dani twists her arm, displaying the patchwork of adhesives. They're nearly clear, and I notice they seem more congealed then when Danny had placed the first one on. Ingenious, even if it's not the time for tech talk.

"I'll be fine," she states sharply, pointing to the ground. "Sit. It'll be easier to explain if I don't feel like a little kid in trouble."

Reluctantly Jason and Tim sit beside me, but I feel Damian bristling at the command. I grab his wrist and tug him down, which rewards me with a nasty glare but also compliance.

Danny stands beside Dani, significantly taller and more visibly anxious. He toys with his sleeve, his hair, his hands, and anything else within reach. I notice the differences between their nervous ticks; Danny rubs his neck, Dani plays with her hair. Danny shifts his weight from foot to foot, Dani paces.

"Uhmm," she begins, her hand tugging on the end of her braid. "Where do I start?" She ends with a nervous chuckle.

"How about you start with Vlad," Jason suggests. "I'm guessing he's the guy you grew up with?"

Dani looks at Danny.

"Unless that was a lie," Damian grouches from his position to my left. I glare at him, not in the mood for his insensitivity.

"Okay, can I just say: I have _never_ lied to you guys." Dani's eyes flash in indignation. She glares at us until something visibly occurs to her and she shrinks back from her position. "Oh. I have. But only once!"

"What about?" I ask lightly before anyone else can jump in with accusations.

"My... age." I frown at her hesitation.

"Why would you lie about your age?" Tim interjects before she can go on. "Age is nothing in this family."

I speak for my brothers again in my level voice. "How old _are _you?"

Dani inhales. Closes her eyes. Exhales. "Four."

"Four years old?" Damian asks, ending with a scoff.

Dani looks at Danny again, this time for confirmation. "Yeah, four since a couple of weeks ago," Danny clarifies.

"I was born when I was twelve," Dani adds, voice smaller, warier of our reactions.

I can feel conclusions happening in the three surrounding me, and I imagine what they're thinking. Jason's thinking about Bizarro, a middle-aged looking Superman clone grown in sixteen weeks. Tim's drawing lines between Kon, another, teenage Superman clone expedited from DNA to sixteen in a matter of weeks. And Damian is thinking about the island filled with his own clones.

I look between the two in front of me. Identical. Is it possible? I fix my gaze back on Dani. "Are you… his…"

"Clone?" Dani finishes drily. "Yes."

While shocked, we accept it in stride, and Damian demands an explanation without much of a pause. Clones… We've dealt with clones before.

"I don't think I need to point out that he is a boy and you are not," Damian adds, crossing his arms.

"Before anyone suggests it," Danny interjects, looking between all four of us, "We are both biologically male and female." Then he waves between Dani and himself. "Respectively."

Dani smirks at his display. Then her expression hardens and she takes another centering breath. "Vlad went to college with Danny's parents. He and Jack-Danny's Dad-" A random memory of the baby she'd saved all those months ago surfaces at the name. "Had this whole love triangle with Maddie, Danny's Mom."

Danny picks up, obviously knowing the story much better. "Vlad got in an accident with one of their experiments and was horribly disfigured-" he smiles, obviously pleased by this "and my mom married my dad. He eventually healed and got a whole lot of money. He blames my dad for losing my mom, and wishes him dead, although he obviously hasn' succeeded… Anyway, he set up a reunion thing so he could kill my dad and flirt with my mom, etcetera etcetera, and then he and I met.

"He decided I was the perfect son, for reasons I can't even begin to understand, and asked me to help him kill my dad, marry my mom, blah blah blah. I said no, but he didn't let it go. Later, he became the mayor of my city to basically piss me off." I raise an eyebrow. "I'm sure there were other reasons for being mayor later, but at the time he solely did it to make me mad."

Sam offers some of her own insight. "They were having a big flex battle on who could ruin who's life the worst." Danny looks at Sam with a defensive frown.

"We were not." Then a flicker of a smile ghosts across his face. "Although I did destroy one of his mansions." He nudges Dani with a bigger grin. "I'll show you how to do it."

"You're getting distracted," Tim chides them. "What does Masters being mayor have to do with Dani?"

"Everyth- Oh you mean her." Danny chuckles awkwardly again. "Nothing, really, but it got him from Wisconsin to Illinois…"

I know my brothers well enough to know they've already started compiling profiles for both Vlad and Danny, listing everything Danny says, both outright and in between the lines. Dani sees it, too, and looks torn between finding it amusing and getting annoyed. Instead, she ignores it.

"Basically, Danny kept telling Vlad no so he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands." Dani gestures to herself. "And thus there was me." She begins her inevitable pacing in between Danny and the rest of us, continuing the story unbidden. "Of course, Vlad is just smart enough to figure out how to clone but not smart enough to perfect it. All the clones were…" Her face screws up. "Mistakes." She continues on, not giving anyone an opportunity to comment. "They were the wrong age, or the wrong size, or… you know, the wrong gender.

"And they all dissolved after a period of time. My gender mix-up counteracted the instability and made me slightly more stable than all the others."

"You were also born with a soul, unlike all the other clones," Danny adds, watching her pace back and forth with furrowed eyebrows. "It's what made Vlad's language program and maturity stimulation stick."

"He force-grew me to twelve. If I had grown from a baby, I would've lived normally, but would've gradually destabilized as I reached the age Danny's DNA was acquired from." She sighs. "The nearest I could get was twelve. I lived around for a little while, helping with the cloning because there was nothing else to do. Eventually, Vlad realized there was something he needed from Danny that he couldn't just steal. So he sent me to go get him."

Dani's expression is full of regret as she continues to pace. "I pretended I was his third cousin once removed since Danny doesn't really have any first cousins…" That's why they call each other cousins. "And when Vlad came I knocked Danny out from behind."

Sam and Danny have serious but otherwise blank faces, allowing Dani to tell the story without getting distracted by them. I notice she frequently glances back at Danny for any corrections in her story, but he hasn't given any more so far.

"I, um…" Dani's story falters and she falls silent and still, pausing in front of Sam. "I helped-"

Danny picks up from here, noticing Dani's distress. "_Vlad_ took me back to his lab," he stresses, eyeing Dani. "The type of energy he used to duplicate the stem cells was ghostly in origin, and like all things ghost, it needed will. In short, it needed to copy my…" He bobs his head, trying to find the words. "Soul? I guess? I don't really know how to explain it… Ghosts are created by will and thoughts, and since he was using ghost energy to bring the clones to life, the energy needed my...er…"

Sam interrupts. "Danny needed to submit to get the information they needed, so Vlad shocked him to get him to comply. But it didn't work." She eyes Danny, who is fidgeting more now. "We don't know how it works, despite how hard Danny's trying to explain it. You'd have to get ahold of Vlad's notes." She waves her hand for the two to continue on.

"He escaped, and I chased after him. Vlad told me that if we didn't get Danny's compliance, I would destabilize. I told that to Danny when I caught up to him, but he told me Vlad didn't want it for me, he wanted it for his prime clone. But I didn't want to hear that, obviously, so I decked him." Dani looks to Danny with a guilty expression, but he just smiles and waves it off. With another deep breath, she continues. "Vlad was going to shock him some more, but I argued. He flipped out, so I released Danny."

Danny folds his arms, pleased. "We kicked his butt."

"Then I left to travel the world," Dani continues, but it feels an awful lot like a conclusion, so we each interrupt with our own questions.

"Why isn't he in jail?"

"Where are his notes?"

"Why would you leave him there?"

Came from Jason, Tim and Damian. I only ask, "Are you destabilizing now?"

Dani looks between us, trying to pick out the individual questions. The one she answers first is mine. "No. Because the story isn't over yet."

She returns to Danny's side, looking all paced out for the moment. Her guilt has faded. I see that Danny and Sam both forgive Dani, and she just hasn't forgiven herself yet. But she pushes that aside and starts the next part of the story. "I traveled for almost a year. I had to make sure I never used too much energy or exerted myself at _all_, because if I did… I would start to fall apart."

Another pregnant pause settles over us as she stares at her hand. "It started being too much. I was almost thirteen, and I knew there was no way I'd make it to fourteen. So I came back. I didn't know what Danny could do, but I hoped he'd do something… Anyway, I was captured almost immediately after entering the city limits. Vlad didn't want me to exist, because we destroyed his lab and I was alive outside his control. He planned on finishing the destabilizing process completely, and…" She swallows. "It worked."

Danny picks up again before we can interrupt. "Ectoplasm pulls things together. It's what held Dani's cells together and why she could keep herself from destabilizing by sheer force of will." They share a smile. "So he took it away, and she mel...ted." His words break, the first extreme show of emotion from him besides the nervous fidgets. "My dad built this thing called the… you know, it's not important. It tore ghosts apart. But like most things my dad makes, it did the opposite of what it was supposed to do. So it pulled her back together, permanently."

"And then I went back to traveling. Nothing pisses Vlad off more than one of his plans turning against him and siding with Danny, so he lowkey wanted me dead. Now I'm back, and he high-key wants me dead."

"Why isn't he in jail?" Jason presses.

Dani looks at Danny. "I don't know, why _isn't_ he in jail?"

Danny looks back at her helplessly. "I _told_ you… I-"

She waves him off. "I'm just messing with you, relax." Then she fixes her gaze on Jason. "Why isn't the Joker dead? He can't get the death penalty because he keeps using the insanity card. Vlad can't go to jail because he keeps using his 'richer than thou' card."

"_We_'re richer than him," Damian states.

"Tell you what," Danny snaps, eyes narrowing. I watch the anger pull at his features, though it doesn't direct itself at any of us. "When you can find the _evidence_ and a _cage_, then we can put him away. But his connections in the Ghost Zone are as deep as his pockets, if not more so. You have to find evidence that doesn't exist outside of a confession, convict him of crimes no one even knows happened and ones that never technically did, catch him in his impenetrable fortress of a mansion with legions of ghosts at his beck and call _and_ manage a cell where he can contact no one and where no ghost, even a ghost twice as powerful as Phantom couldn't penetrate! Oh, and you have to do _all this_ without alerting him and his many cameras as to what you're up to, otherwise, he'll kill your friends and family!"

Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and visibly counts to ten.

Dani tilts her head at his display. He wasn't directing his anger at us, but more expressing his frustration for not being able to do it himself. Sam stands from the floor and moves to Danny's shoulder for support.

"We understand," I assure the group, glancing to my companions with a stern glance.

Danny opens his wary eyes and looks at me reproachfully.

"This is _Gotham_," I remind them. "We can outfit Wayne Manor with plenty ghost detectors. The security already alerts us if so much as a spider crosses our grounds. Nobody will notice a few more sensors."

Dani nods thoughtfully. "I'm sorry for freaking out," she addresses us all.

"No worries," Danny responds instantly. He has an annoying habit of treating her like he knows her as well as we do. "We're all afraid of something, and as far as fears go, Vlad is pretty rational."

"Thanks," Dani deadpans.

Sam elbows Danny and he jumps away from the shock, narrowing his eyes at Sam playfully. "By the way," Sam adds, addressing us. "Danny was always planning on releasing his patent to Wayne Enterprises. He just wanted an excuse to come up to Gotham."

The way they've moved on from the obvious issue unnerves me. I still have tons of questions they didn't answer in their tale; how ectoplasm factors into this, why Phantom never showed up (it is his city after all), how an underground lab was funded and powered without alerting any authorities...

Dani silences all our impending questions with a flat glare. Then she glances at Danny and says in Russian, "_YA ob"yasnyu letuchim mysham zavtra_."

"What?" Danny asks, though everyone else catches her meaning. She'll answer our hero and detective questions tomorrow.

"Don't worry about it," Dani responds off-handedly.

He looks confused and curious, but drops it without comment.

"I need to talk to Danny," she addresses the rest of us. "If you wouldn't… mind." Her voice stutters, and she closes her eyes briefly.

Reluctantly, I draw myself to my feet. I move to step towards her, but she holds out her hand. "Tomorrow," she promises. "Not tonight."

I turn back to my brothers, asking them each nonverbally if they were okay with that. None of them argue and instead turn back and head down the stairs one by one. I pause at the doorway and turn back to Dani. "I'm glad you're not leaving."

She nods.

I follow Jason down the stairs.

"Definitely not what I was expecting," Tim mutters, ruffling his hair with a tired and drawn face.

I can't help but agree.

* * *

**And thus, it was done.**

**Wow I'm nervous with this chapter. Y'all had a lot to say. I hope it lived up to your expectations... Let me know what you think of this one. Also, I know it seems a little unbelievable that the Batfam hasn't already found out about their civilian identities, but I'd just like to point out that they didn't know about Captain Marvel/Billy Batson until he revealed it to them (at least in some arcs). Like Captain Marvel, Phantom is just too _good_ and _sunny_ (as Batman would put it) to be suspicious. Anyway, until next chapter...**


	24. Chapter 24

"Is it really that hard to gather evidence against him?"

My question tumbles out as soon as I'm sure the brothers are gone.

Looking at Danny's expression doesn't make me hopeful regarding my question. Still, he ponders it, running through who-knows-what in his head. Finally, he comes to a conclusion, his mouth pressed into a tight line and his eyes tired. "Even if-"

He trails off, looking down at his chest as if he'll find his insignia there. It takes me a moment to catch his meaning, and when I do, I choke out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Your… It's not like I'm asking you to kill him, Danny! I just-" My eyes prick with tears and pressure builds in my throat. I have to stop in order to force back the painful urge to cry. "I'm just asking you to lock him up."

"I know," he states softly.

"Isn't your secret worth my life?"

My small question is swallowed up by the silence that surrounds it. It's unfair, and completely unwarranted. I peek a glance at Danny to see his kicked expression, but it's too late to snatch the words back, no matter how badly I want to.

"Of…_No_! Of course not!" His voice grows angry and he backs away from Sam, his skin beginning to crackle with power. I can feel it from where I stand. "Don't you think if I could've prevented tonight I would've? If I could've stopped him from laying one hand on you, I would've traded my secret in a heartbeat! But it doesn't work like that, Dani…"

His anger deflates suddenly, and the glow of his skin fades away. Defeated. He looks defeated and resigned. It's not something I would've ever expected of him.

He crosses the space between us, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a tight embrace. I sense that the hug is as much for him as it is for me. "Vlad's not just… some mayor that only ran for office to piss off a fourteen year old kid anymore."

I hear Sam sit back down.

"He's smarter. He knows I'm part of the Justice League. He knows I haven't told them yet, and he knows as soon as I do his secret's the next thing I expose. If I say _anything_…" His voice breaks and his arms tighten around me. "He'll release Dan."

The chilling ice in his voice keeps me from making light of the name. Instead, I silently urge him to continue. "When Batman returned, we momentarily stopped his heart to release the pent up time energy inside of him."

"Right…"

"It didn't just disappear, it had to go somewhere. Just my luck that it happened to be into Vlad." He lets out a ragged breath. "I should've _known_ that's why Vlad wanted to get to the WatchTower so bad. I didn't even realize he'd absorbed the energy until Clockwork visited to tell me Vlad had stolen the thermos with Dan inside. He has the Observants' power... To see the future and the past. To top it all off, the power makes him immune to Clockwork's powers and sight… Everything he does is completely off the radar. I don't even know if he's _already_ released Dan..."

"But who _is_ Dan?"

"An alternate version of me. He's…He's my Joker." The normal Danny would've said this with a wink and a smirk, but this Danny says it with a deadly voice. "His obsession died with the destruction of my friends and family, and he became obsessed with getting rid of the pain. Vlad was perfectly helpful with _that_." He scoffs, his voice deepening. "He's Vlad and my ghost sides combined. Bent on destruction and suffering, with the power to make it happen. In the future, he'd destroyed everything except for Amity. There was nobody else, not even Superman."

I inhale sharply.

"If he releases Dan…"

"I get it. A mutual blackmail has turned into mutual destruction. Why would he _want_ that?" Vlad is all about personal gain. He's in it to win the game of chess, not set the board on fire.

"Dan would slaughter the Justice League. I'm guessing Vlad has a sort of contingency against him, but I don't know what it is." Danny releases a breathy sigh, probably intended to be a laugh. "I thought I never had to worry about him again."

"Vlad, the shades, Dan…" I trail off, shifting my head to the side. "Ghosts are just not on the good guys' side, are they?"

"No," Danny mumbles. "They're my responsibility, and I can't figure out any of it. Vlad has to be in on this shade thing, right? Are they even shades? I could be completely wrong." His sigh comes even heavier with his distress. "And now we have to worry about Vlad going after you. If he decides he wants to know how to stabilize clones-and halfas, now that I think of it-he'll know you're the answer."

"Thanks for making me feel better."

He releases me and digs in his pocket, leaving me disoriented by the sudden space. "Here." Danny holds a flash drive out to me. "This is everything I have on Vlad. All the research I downloaded from his lab, all the files Tucker hacked and my own knowledge. Strengths, weaknesses, documents of our fights, all known properties and funds. Everything."

My hand freezes when the drive is dropped into it. It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about all the information on this drive. "Why…"

"Give this to someone. If Vlad takes you, have them upload it to the internet. Tell Vlad they will, and if you are released you can stop them."

"Won't he release Dan?"

"He cares about his secret more than anything else. He'll keep it until it's exposed. _Then_ he'll destroy everything I care about. But it's a hail mary. If he has to choose between letting you go to keep his secret safe or killing you and having it exposed, he'll choose the first one every time." He sounds more confident than I feel, but I nod and slip the file into my sweat pockets.

"We have to get that thermos back," I conclude. "Because he's using it to keep you at bay so something else can happen with all these shades. I'm positive."

"I am too," he agrees. "But I'm stuck right now. All the surveillance, the eyes on me... I need more to happen before I can _do_ anything. There's something big going on, but I can't tell anyone about it or investigate myself."

I agree wholeheartedly. Danny's trapped in every sense of the word. When he first joined the League a little under six months ago, the enemies had crippled under his added power. Like Superman, he proved detrimental to the supervillains.

Superman was invincible until Lex Luthor discovered kryptonite. Then the supervillains figured out how to fight back. More than the home planet rock that rendered Superman weak and near-powerless, they discovered more chinks in his armor. His regard for human life. His dense body structure. His sensitive ears. Red sun radiation. Ultraviolet waves.

And that's exactly what happened with Phantom. Once Vlad entered the equation with all the weaknesses Danny's shown him over the years, Phantom's tiny flaws began to be exploited in big ways. I'd read Batman's reports. Phantom could be tracked through his low temperature readings. Different wavelengths in the air could cause him to lose invisibility. Extreme heat used up his ice powers since he needed to stay cool. All this, along with his psychological weaknesses and the plethora of ghost weapons created by the Fentons and Vlad, made besting Phantom possible.

With all the bad guys getting smarter and smarter, Phantom has been getting increasingly more pressure. And Vlad, even if he's probably not the cause of all of it, has taken advantage and trapped Danny in an impossible situation.

Vlad has him in checkmate.

Unbeknownst to him, however, he's been playing another game with me and he's only got me in check.

And this is my move.

* * *

I rub my eyes and yawn. While I had gotten plenty of rest last night, my brain is still exhausted from the mental strain it went under yesterday. Even today, my mind is working overtime trying to predict all the questions I'll be asked and how I'm going to respond.

As I make my way to the BatCave, I fiddle with the hardened gel stuck to my wounds. It amazes me how quickly they've healed already; the gel acts as the scab, so the body immediately begins repairing the skin underneath. They'll catch me in any lie, I decide. I hate lying; having to remember the stories and keep them all straight is exhausting. I'll simply… not answer, just like I have been doing this whole time.

My plan crumbles as soon as I see Batman standing among the brothers I know so well.

I groan inwardly. The plan didn't even make first contact.

And why are all the brothers _still_ here? Getting them in the same place without killing each other _never_ happens. I know it happens around me a lot, but that's just because I'm special.

I make myself known immediately. I might've been a mess last night, but that doesn't change who I am.

I'm bold. I'm fearless. I'm… totally about to phase through this floor.

Dick questions me with his eyes from behind Batman. I can tell I'm not going to be questioned by the former Boy Wonder; obviously, Batman had other plans. I can also tell that the others didn't exactly _agree_, but they won't be interrupting their mentor. That's okay, though. I can deal with the Dark Knight, no matter how badly he scares me.

I nod at Dick, a quirk of my smile teasing the edge of my mouth, and plant my feet securely in the ground. Batman moves to speak, but I interrupt him in a shining moment of stupidity. "I know I didn't tell you. I know you in particular don't trust me." Batman doesn't reply, his mouth pressed into an agitated, hard line. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want to acknowledge that jerk's existence. Not because I wanted to secretly murder you in your sleep. If you even sleep."

"What's your point?" Batman asks in that way that makes it sound more like a statement than a question. I feel the foreboding of a stern interrogation, in which I'm going to be drilled as mercilessly as a criminal.

But right now, that doesn't scare me. The only thing I'm scared of is losing their trust. In this family, trust is everything. It's selective and hard to attain; though not as impossible to regain as you might think. Still, they're my family. And I don't want anything jeopardizing that.

"Just trying to explain." I steel myself. "Now, ask away."

"What is your name and age?"

"Danielle," I respond, my mouth bitter at the name. "Dani Fenton, originally. I was born December 14, give or take a few days, four years ago. I'm biologically sixteen."

Knowing Batman even as little as I do, I know not to babble and add extra information he didn't ask for. If I _were_ a criminal, it might've been helpful, but for now I think it's best to answer his questions _exactly_.

"Parents?"

"Uhhh-" At a genuine loss, I _do _babble. "Do you mean who created me, who my DNA came from or Danny's parents?" I don't get an answer. "Um, Vlad's my… er… creator or whatever you call him, and Danny's my DNA, and his parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton." The silence barely descends before I grow nervous and break it. "Is that what you meant?"

Damian rolls his eyes from behind Batman.

Batman moves on without answering my question, causing me to grunt in annoyance. I scuff my shoe on the ground, itching to move, as the questioning continues.

How long were you with Masters? _Only a few weeks._

What did you do while there? _I did whatever he wanted me to do. Helped… push buttons. When he wasn't there I wandered the halls or read._

What was Masters' behavior? _Arrogant. Even after every failure, he would just nod like he meant for it to happen. He obsessed over Danny, obviously. Watched the feed from the cameras he had in Danny's house. _

What was his attitude regarding you? _Charming. Sweet? I don't know. That's how he talked to me. But he was pretty neutral, like I was there so I should do this and this but otherwise he left me alone._

Did he explain anything to you? _I was unstable. He didn't bother. All I knew was he needed something from Danny, and if he didn't get it I wouldn't survive._

Were you aware of Daniel's existence? _Um. Yes. But not at first… I knew he was cloning someone, I just didn't know who until a little before I was asked to get him._

When did you know you were destabilizing? _Vlad told me right before he ordered me to kidnap Danny._

Why did you agree to kidnap Daniel? _To stop from destabilizing. And because Vlad told me to._

And on.

And on.

He reiterates several questions with different wording, trying to determine lies. He asks for descriptions instead of agreements, staying silent after asking until I was done rambling off as many details as I could remember. Most of the questions are asked in a way that puts me in the worst possible light, and the shame and guilt I usually ignore sits painfully in my chest.

I try my best to explain why I had done it, feeling like a criminal despite my best efforts to tell them that I'm not one. Of course I had known they would be wary of this in particular. I'd rehearsed my answer a dozen times in my head, but it feels so flimsy against the probing and accusatory questions.

I thought Vlad was right, even when I knew he was wrong. I wanted Vlad's affection. I wanted to live. I stood by as Vlad tortured Danny, hoping it would result in my survival, in Vlad's approval. There is no sugarcoating that I caused that.

My guilt refuses to let me fall back on claims that I was naive and new, that I didn't know right and wrong. I did know. At least… I should've.

I tried to follow up and assure them that I was in no danger of doing so now, but Batman interrupted and asked the next question.

All in all, I'm not feeling very good about this right now.

None of the brothers interrupt, staying silent and keeping their faces neutral, listening without responding one way or the other. I readily avoid their gazes, nervous to make eye contact with them if they aren't going to acknowledge me.

Batman demands briefly that I explain why ectoplasm was used, but I can only have rudimentary understanding of it. I mention that it pulls stuff together and gives form. I tell him that I was created with it, but that after I was stabilized, my body didn't need ectoplasm to hold it together anymore. These are all truths. I'd been worried that they would automatically assume that I would have ectoplasmic powers or a ghostly body, but luckily, that theory is too far-fetched for even the Batman.

I grow tired of talking but it continues to drag on. Batman doesn't stop at my origins. He drills me on how I met Dick, why I agreed to move here with him, why I ran off to stop Jason myself. Then he moves on to my time traveling the world. There are so many stories here I don't even know where to begin.

Luckily, Batman's asking for specifics. He wants to know if I've met certain people, showing me pictures and gauging my expression. There are a few I'm certain he puts there because he knows I have met them and is wondering if I'll admit to it (heroes, mostly). He wants to know about my involvements in organizations. My loyalties. My… everything.

I hate this.

"What is your stance on ghosts?"

"What?"

I'm genuinely shocked by the question. I had just been asked if I had my _immunizations _done, but now we're going here? Where did this come from?

"Phantom, Plasmius, among others. Your biological family hunts ghosts."

I pause. The silence drags as I think of my answer. Is he asking if I have a connection to Phantom? I can't imagine why. Except for the fact that Amity…

I mentally smack myself.

Amity Park is Phantom's city. They're wondering why he wasn't involved.

"Most of them are incredibly annoying," I answer finally. "There are a few I extremely dislike, because they're at a degree of annoying past my tolerance, but I know a few that I like. There are natural portals that pop up every now and then, letting some out. They like to seek me out because I'm related to Danny. I've made some friends. For most of my second year I traveled with a ghost named Wulf. He had to go back to the Zone."

"Have you met Phantom, the protector of Amity Park?"

I open my mouth. I'd purposefully left him out so that they'd ask this question. Like I mentioned before, I'm no liar. I can't make up a story on the spot about meeting him, so I was waiting for a yes or no question. That way, I can describe a brief meeting with him instead of getting into specifics.

_Protector of Amity Park._

_Phantom, the spirit, the ghost, the specter…_

Batman glowers at my silence.

My open mouth giggles. "Specter protector," I test, and giggle harder.

Batman is not amused. But I can't help it. It's just so _funny_. I slap my hands on my mouth and shake with silent laughter. Okay, maybe it's not really funny, but maybe I'm tired of nothing being funny.

"Dani," Dick broaches, and I wave him off, wrestling my laughter until it's under control.

"Sorry, sorry." I breathe deeply, trying to dispel any remaining hysteria. A chuckle escapes one more time before I'm serious enough to answer the question. "Yeah, I met him once. Like Danny said, Vlad has anti-ghost security, but when I went back to Amity to re-stabilize, Phantom helped me escape the Red Huntress. Nice guy. Er, ghost, I guess."

"The Red Huntress is a ghost hunter," Batman states.

"Well, if you check the fine print, Val got her armor from Vlad."

"Val?"

Crap.

I feel my face flood with heat. "If anyone asks, I did _not_ tell you that."

"Full name?"

"No, no," I stutter, waving my hands in front of me. "I can't tell you her identity! That was _so_ my bad." I mumble the last part, scuffing my shoe on the ground. That was _really_ dumb of me.

"Valerie Grey," Batman responds.

My head shoots back up, then I force my surprise down. "Oh. You already knew."

"How did _you _know?" he reiterates.

I dismiss this. "Vlad had her watched."

"He calls her Val?"

"No, _I_ call her Val." Silence. "Phantom calls her Val," I mutter.

Batman says nothing, and though nothing changes around his mask, I feel the bat-glare. Look, I'm not naive. I know there's parts of my story that aren't sitting right, and there's no way I'm good enough at evading the truth to fool the Batman. But Danny said it; Vlad has us one-upped. And as much as I want to believe he doesn't care enough about me to have me watched, I'm not naive.

Clockwork sees and knows all. I mean, he's Clockwork. But if Vlad can bypass him in order to steal something from his tower… Who's to say he hasn't bypassed Batcave security?

So I need to shut the bats down. At least long enough to find a way to tell them without tipping off Vlad.

"Look," I begin.

"By now, you know I keep my secrets.

Even though I trust you, there are things I need to keep to myself.

I want to tell you, but there is so much more going on then you realize.

Not that I think you guys couldn't handle it...

Getting off topic; sorry.

What I mean is, it's something that the other part of my life is dealing with.

After they figure it out, if they figure it out, I can finish the story.

There's so much more to this, and so many more people involved that I can't even begin to list.

Couldn't even if I could.

How else do I tell you that I trust you, that I'm worthy of your trust, and that I would never betray you, not to anyone?

Even if Danny needed me to or if my own life depended on it.

Do you guys understand?"

Okay, so not my best speech. But I thought it up on the spot, and it's a lot harder than you'd think to simultaneously create a speech that makes sense and make sure it follows the code. Given my circumstances, I think it was pretty okay.

The room is silent as they mentally decode my speech. Dick taught it to me; it's his favorite. The Cluemaster's code: a message transmitted through the first letter of each sentence. With my pauses between each sentence, I hoped they would realize what I was doing, and by the knowing look on Dick's face, they did.

Batman nods once. "Figure it out."

I return the nod. "I'll do my best."

The interrogation mood fades away, breaking the tension. Batman turns away, apparently appeased for now. I'm struck by their faith in me. If they truly didn't trust me, they would've questioned my code, or taken it as an attempt on my part to avoid any future questioning. But no, they just accept it. Joy flutters through me, but I push it away.

I have to figure out how to tell them everything without alerting Vlad at all. Now that I recognize the possibility of him being able to view time with the ease of Clockwork, the job seems nearly impossible. But Clockwork doesn't have Vlad's arrogance, or his limited vision. Vlad will look at time laterally; one event leads to another. I need to think outside of this constraint.

How in the heck am I supposed to do that?

Well, while my subconscious thinks on _that_, I have another order of business to attend to in the meantime: to get this flash drive in the hands of someone I trust.

But what I don't understand is how I still have the flash drive. If Vlad truly does have omniscience, wouldn't he know I have it?

Which means I can't trust this drive anymore. It could've been switched out, erased, whatever. I need contingencies.

Apparently, I'm spending way too much time with the bats.

Coming up with an idea on the spot, I catch up to Tim, who's heading up the stairs. Dick, who'd no doubt been waiting to talk to me, looks dejected, but I can't worry about that now. "Hey Tim," I broach, careful with my phrasing.

"Yes?"

He pauses to talk but I urge him to keep walking. "You're good at hacking and stuff like that, right?"

I can tell that wasn't what he was expecting, but he gestures for me to go on anyway.

"I need a program."

"What do you need it to do?"

We walk towards his room, which I'm guessing has a computer. While Tim does the majority of his computer work on the BatComputer, he does have a major OS in his room for personal work. I hope it's just as good.

"Let's just say I know something somebody doesn't want me to know. If I wanted to make sure that it got out if I went missing, but not until then, what would you suggest?"

Tim studies me for a long moment in front of his room. "Am I allowed to know what it is?"

"If I could tell you, don't you think I just would've? Then we wouldn't have to go through all this other stuff."

He nods to himself. "I can design a program that alerts you every day. If you miss an alert, it'll alert someone else. If that person doesn't get you back and you don't answer the alert by the next day, it'll upload to the internet." Tim looks at me, tilting his head. "Something like that?"

I nod. "And I need to be the only one able to do it. No codes, no voice patterns, no scans. Nothing that can be replicated by recordings or by forcing me."

He arches an eyebrow. "No problem," he deadpans.

"Is it a problem?" I worry aloud, scanning the screen as Tim opens up a program.

"Yes, but it's okay. That's what makes it fun."

I grin at him and recline in his bed as his hands start moving across the keyboard more quickly. I ponder the flashdrive in my pocket, wondering what it held or even if it held anything. My thoughts wander aimlessly around half-formed plans, fortifying ideas and patching up holes they create.

The program will likely fail, no matter how skilled Tim may be. But I can use it as a distraction for something else. If Vlad focuses on the program, maybe I can slip something else in that will catch him off guard.

But is it even possible to catch him off guard? Won't he just see that I trick him sometime in the future?

I just have to put faith in Tim's ability to create a formidable program. There are worse things to put your faith behind.

It takes me a moment to realize that Tim had talked to me. "Sorry, what was that?"

"I said it's like we're seeing a whole new side of you."

I sigh. "I'm seeing a whole new side of myself. Honestly, I'm just glad it didn't turn out to be evil."

He laughs, surprising me. "Dani, everyone in this family has a dark side that we struggle with. Some of us fight it harder than others. But you… You're like Dick. Good all the way through. Just because your sense of right and wrong was flipped for the first month of your existence doesn't change that at all."

"This, coming from Tim 'Paranoia' Drake?" I quip, air-quoting the middle name I'd appointed him.

"Did you know that neither Jason nor the demon spawn have taken a life since you came to live here? Did you notice everyone's around more often? That there are less brawls?" He breathes another laugh, eyes still glued to the monitor. "You make us better people, Dani." He seems surprised at his own sincerity and quickly adds a jab. "Even if you can be ridiculously stupid."

I smile. "Even if I can't push you off a cliff."

"Even if you can't blink in morse code."

"Hey, I can do three letters!"

"Did you count the S in SOS twice?"

My smile doubles. "I did, in fact, count the S twice."

"You know eleven languages and can't learn morse code."

I do my best to raise only one eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"It's just funny."

His tone signifies the end of the conversation, and the room falls back into quiet, the only sounds coming from the whir of the computer and the soft taps of Tim's typing. He glances at me briefly with a meaningful look and types quickly. Something's off with the way he types it. It feels almost like walking into a familiar room with something slightly altered that you can't quite place.

It goes back to normal until Tim pauses again, squints at the screen, and types the same pattern before seamlessly continuing.

Tap tap tap. Press press press. Tap tap tap.

I play it back in my head idly, turning it over and over until it hits me like a ton of bricks.

Geez I'm dumb.

SOS, the only code I know. Vlad doesn't know morse code. Tim's literally solving my problem of communication. If Vlad's watching me closely, which is a huge possibility since he had undoubtedly watched me after our altercation and has probably found out that the Waynes have a secret double life, this is the perfect way to bypass his arrogance.

"Can you teach me how to code?" I ask, voice dipped in mirth. I can't believe I hadn't thought of it before.

"Yeah, sure. This is advanced, though. We'll need to start at the beginning." In Tim's own cryptic code, this means we're starting at the letter A.

I lean back, listening to Tim's _tap_ _press_. Pause. _Tap press_.

I always was so good at chess.

* * *

**Hopefully that answered some of your questions. I know some of you were skeptical about the bats' reception of their story, and why I wrote in ectoplasm anyway. There are reasons for this! Ectoplasm isn't exclusive to ghosts in this universe. Like Danny's glorified bandaids, it's a substance/power source that has unlimited potential. Also, they are undoubtedly going to test her blood for tell-tale clone signs and find that there's ectoplasm in it. Finally, they do trust her! Even Batman. Like Tim said, she's just so _good_.**

**Hopefully, that'll clear some things up. Dani's identity will be coming out pretty soon, and I've finished the plot for this fic. It's so awesome (at least I think so). **

**Until next time!**

**R/R**


	25. Chapter 25

My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I sprint across the rooftops, arms pumping like pistons at my sides and my head low against the wind. I'm back in my Nightwing suit, leading a team of three others through the commlink inside my ear.

"Anybody have eyes?" I bark through the mic, struggling to be heard over the air rushing around me.

"Just turned north on 90th and 22nd," comes the reply from Donna. I change my trajectory, cutting through the neighborhoods instead of running along the street.

"Let's get him cornered on 28th," I order, using my grappling hook to switch between two streets. Donna, though she may be the current leader of the Titans, always defers to my orders when I come along. I don't like it, but Donna says it's a habit she doesn't care to break.

I arrive at the designated rendezvous a hairsbreadth after everyone else. "He's…" Omen pauses, her eyes glowing within the darkness of her hood. "He was right here."

"Who last had eyes?"

"I was following," Arsenal speaks up. "Lost visual for maybe five seconds when I turned the corner."

I search the area, finding nothing. Using my masks filters, I switch between thermal, energy and density lens. The only thing I find is residue from ectoplasmic energy. Defeated, I let my hands fall from my mask.

The Titans called me in with several STAR lab thefts. Sensors detected disturbances that resulted in either missing tech or information. They were never caught, and the Titans always arrived to an empty lab. With my handy Fenton tech, I was slightly more successful in determining the culprit, though the person behind this and their motives remain unclear.

The thefts themselves are seemingly random. The items taken range from energy prototypes to quantum research. What they got away with this time was a condemned weapon that had been put away after several failed attempts to get it to nullify super strength.

"I'm so sick of this!" Agitated, I slam my fist into the brick wall to my right. "If it weren't so random, there might be a pattern to follow, but there's no motive, no connection, no leads!" Donna tilts her head at me, eyebrows slightly raised. "Sorry," I grunt, dragging a hand through my hair.

"Relax," she orders in a light tone, righting her head and turning to address the other two. "It's Christmas Eve. We will investigate on the 26th, and we _will _figure it out. But for now, let's go home and have some Christmas spirit."

She's met with half-hearted enthusiasm as Arsenal and Omen go their separate ways.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" I ask Donna once we're alone. We head up to the rooftops, where there aren't so many people.

"Hanging out with the team," she responds. "I might go to the League's party. What about you?"

I chuckle, my laugh coming out in a white puff of air. "Dani had everyone in the family make a blood oath that they would be there for at least the morning."

Donna chuckles. "Are you bringing her to the League party?"

"I was going to, but she's spending the second part of the day with the other Danny."

"Um. The other Danny?"

I laugh. "Right, you wouldn't know about him yet. Turns out, Dani is the clone of this guy also named Danny."

Donna gives me a blank look.

"I'm serious!"

"..."

Laughing at her skepticism, I briefly recount Dani's story. I'm not sure if Dani would be okay with sharing the story, but I trust Donna almost as much as I trust Barbara. That's a lot of trust.

Donna laughs with me at the end of the story. "That is such a strange backstory! Gotta say, it's nice not to be the only female clone anymore."

"Great, you guys already have something in common." I regard her. "You even look alike."

"Sometimes I think if you're born with black hair and blue eyes, you're destined to become a hero."

"Would explain a lot. I mean, me, Batman, Red Robin, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, you, Zatanna, Superman, Superboy, the other Superboy, the other Superboy…"

Donna laughs. "Case closed."

My watch alerts me to a text, and I smile as I read it.

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! I expect you all around the tree at six a.m. sharp! NO EXCEPTIONS!**

"Dani?" Donna asks.

I nod, calling my cycle before turning my full attention to the Amazon in front of me. "Merry Christmas, Donna."

"Merry Christmas." I hug her tightly and step back.

"I'll see you later today?"

"Sure, Boy Blue," she replies, smiling lightly. Then she gives me a mock salute and lifts into the air. "Anything for team leader!"

"Former team leader!" I call after her retreating form.

She turns back. "Once team leader, always team leader!"

I chuckle as I grapple off the building and onto my waiting bike. "That's not how it works, but okay."

My bike roars as I twist the handle, shooting forward on the pavement and gaining speed. I ride through the city, weaving through the other cars out on the streets. As soon as I clear the city, I flip on the snow tires and speed up to neck-breaking speeds.

The suit I wore tonight is insulated and retains my body heat, but the drive is long and I feel my body growing numb. By the time I'm back in Gotham, I can't contain my shivers.

With a satisfying rev, my bike leaps off the pavement and lands nicely in one of the BatCave tunnels. I flex my hands to get some more feeling in them, since these tunnels are difficult to maneuver and a wipeout at my speeds would leave me unable to celebrate Christmas this year. And then Dani would murder me.

I warm up marginally by the time I reach the main Cave, though I still rub my hands together and blow into them.

"Here, Boy Wonder." Barbara comes out of nowhere, holding a cup of steaming hot chocolate that she offers to me. "You look chilled."

I accept it with a grateful smile. "You're the best."

"Hey! Don't thank the messenger!" Dani's standing a floor above us, hands on her hips. "_I'm_ the one who made it."

Damian corrects her on her quote and she starts threatening to take his cocoa away, resulting in a heated argument. Barbara just smiles and takes a sip from her mug, walking with me to the uniform room.

In the doorway, Barbara nudges me and glances up. I follow her gaze and grin. "Dani put up mistletoe?"

"No, that was me," she teases, using her free hand to pull me in for a kiss.

It's as chaste as we know how to make it, meaning it's hot and passionate and only ends because we nearly lose our grips on our hot chocolates. For the life of me I'll never understand why we're not together. It's like we're in a perpetual state of _not ready_. Still, moments like these gives me hope that maybe one day…

"Get changed, Robin," Babs orders, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before taking an innocent sip of her hot chocolate. "Dani wants to celebrate with a fire and marshmallows."

"It's Nightwing," I tease over my shoulder, pulling off my mask as I go.

After swapping my uniform for a pair of sweats and one of Dani's tees-the chick magnet one, of course-I head up to the den, where I'm met with one of the largest family meetings since Bruce's anti-funeral (it was Jason's idea, don't ask).

The den had been decorated with garlands and lights, which kept the room bright despite the light being off. In the corner across from the fireplace, there stands a huge tree, decorated heavily with hero-themed ornaments. She'd done it last night; I'd been helping her when I was called out. Underneath the tree, presents spilled out and were stacked a good three feet out. Spread out on the couches sat several Bat members, all chatting except for Damian and Cass.

Dani had only briefly met Cass in September and they'd clashed pretty heavily, but in the same meeting she'd made fast friends with Stephanie. The former is standing beside one of the couches stoically, trying to avoid catching Dani's eye. The latter is sitting on the fireplace, chatting and flicking her hair out of her eyes.

Besides them, all four brothers are here, in addition to Duke.

I join Barbara on the couch, throwing my arm around her despite her light glare.

"Where's Bruce?" I address the group, setting my cooling mug on the coffee table in front of me.

"He said he'd be here," Dani tells me, then shrugs. "So basically, I have no idea. You guys know him better than I do."

"If he says he's coming, there's a fifty-fifty chance he'll make it," Tim tells her. I notice he's sitting closest to the fireplace, conversationally adding to Dani and Steph's discussion.

Alfred loudly clears his throat from the doorway. I glance at him, and he's staring me down. Having lived in this manor for more than half my life, I immediately know what he's chastising me on. I grin impishly and move my mug onto the coaster three inches to the right.

He shakes his head, probably disappointed with me, and enters the room. "Master Bruce is getting changed downstairs. He has invited Miss Kyle to join us."

Dani looks at Tim.

"Catwoman," he supplies.

Steph, Cass and Duke all look at him like he'd spilled some big secret. "What? Dani knows everything."

Dani beams.

Alfred sets down a plate of assorted cookies, which is immediately attacked. He then sits himself down in a nearby armchair, much to my surprise. I can already imagine the intensity of the argument he and Dani must've had regarding the matter. Looks like she won.

Conversation returns as Dani builds the fire, getting several corrections from Damian and, surprisingly, Cass. Bruce eventually emerges from the doorway, followed by a grinning Selina. While still a thrill-seeking thief, she and Bruce had abandoned their pact to stay away from each other and were now having a relationship, no matter how complicated it may be.

They sit together beside Damian, who had been slouching in the corner of a couch. Selina greets him and he begrudgingly welcomes her back, quickly following up with a shout for Dani to use a match instead of a lighter.

It's obvious Dani has never started a fire before, but she refuses to let anyone do it for her. You'd think with all her world experience she'd know how to do something as simple as build a fire.

Damian groans and stands up, stalking over to her and demanding she let him do it. "Matches are far more effective," he snaps in a patronizing tone, grabbing a match and running it across the brick. Dani sits back on her heels with a heavy frown. Tim and I exchange a wary look.

Dani looks at the lighter in her hand and back at Damian, who's effectively set the paper scraps on fire. She flicks it on.

"Dani!"

I can't tell who shouted it first because I'm laughing too hard as the flame she held to Damian's jacket catches hold and starts spreading. Damian, when he hears the shout, whirls to Dani, who sits back on her heels with a blank expression.

"Really? You were going to set me on fire? A little overdramatic, don't you think?"

Tim's snickering turns into roaring laughter as smoke starts curling up from the burning jacket. Damian frowns and turns his head, trying to see the back of his jacket. When he does, he jumps straight up.

The room erupts into chaos, half the room laughing and the other half trying to help Damian. Jason yells at Damian when he's about to roll on the ground, saying it'll mess up the carpet, and in the confusion, Damian listens. He attempts to pull the jacket over his head, but the fabric splits in half and catches his arms on fire.

Alfred is the one who succeeds in putting him out, as he calmly grabs the fire extinguisher from beside the fireplace and sprays Damian down. The room calms down as Damian turns to Dani, covered in white foam, and glares at her with more contained anger than I've ever seen from him. And that's saying a _lot_.

"I guess you were right about the matches," Dani comments offhandedly, setting the lighter down. "Lighters are so unpredictable." She holds up a bag of marshmallows. "S'mores?"

Damian turns on his heel and stomps out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Presents at six!" Dani calls after him. Then she looks around at all of our stares. "What?"

Selina breaks the silence. "Oh, I like her."

"Everyone does," Jason corrects her, leaning back on the couch.

Dani ignores this and continues roasting her marshmallow. She's soon joined by Steph and Barb, and the room returns to normal conversation. Damian eventually returns, wearing a new jacket and an even deeper scowl, sinking into the couch again to stare Dani down.

At six sharp, Dani claps her hands excitedly. "Time for presents! Woohoo!" Jumping up from the fireplace, she rushes over to the stacks of presents and places her hand on one of the taller stacks. "These have to be opened first, because I have to explain them, but then you guys can tear apart these beautifully wrapped gifts as savagely as you want."

She tosses them around based on their wrapping paper, which I assume are the name tags. I myself getting a gift wrapped in Nightwing themed paper. Looking around at everyone else's paper, I notice that Dani has one more box without any paper that she holds on to.

Everyone except for Cass, Duke and Selina rip into their presents their own way: Steph tears it open in excitement, Tim and Bruce efficiently pull the paper away, Jason and Damian cut it open with knives, Barb and Alfred carefully peel it open to preserve the paper and I slice the side and let the box slide out.

Steph is the first to get hers open, and she holds up a silver strip with a confused tilt to her head.

Bruce examines his and concludes, "Fenton tech."

"They're refined versions of the deflectors Danny makes for his friends," Dani supplies, still standing with the unmarked box. "They detect ghosts and prevent possession and any other kind of physical attack. Danny's friend was just finishing up the software to rule out friendly ghosts, so now they're ready to be put inside your utility belts."

Alfred raises his eyebrows at his own as I finger mine thoughtfully. "This is incredibly handy," I remark lightly. "You had him design these? And he didn't ask why?"

She rolls her eyes. "He's a ghost hunter." We remain quiet. "It was his idea! I just… strongly agreed. They are technically for normal belts." Her smile returns and she finally flips open the box in her hands. "I knew there'd be more people here, so I got a few extras." She hands one to Duke, Selina and Cass.

Bruce, who had been analyzing his, sets the tech down. "Thank you." His earnest tone surprises the room, before we quickly follow through with our own thanks.

"You're welcome," Dani replies. "Now, like savages!"

Everyone looks at her again. She frowns, dropping her hands to her sides from where she had waved them at the christmas tree. "Or civilly. Whichever."

She drops onto the couch in between Tim and Jason, frowning at our civility. There's another pause before Barb leaves my side again to find her stack of gifts. "These are from me," she starts, handing them out one by one. "They're not quite as extravagant as specially designed utility belt grafts, but…"

I unwrap mine. "Is this a… a _glutemaster_?"

"You bet your sweet butt it is," she teases, winking at me from behind her glasses.

And so the unwrapping of gifts continues.

Dani provided the majority of the gifts, clearly making use of the credit cards I'd given her. She had a lot more for Jason then anyone else, and all but a few were completely useless. There were a couple more t-shirts, some toy guns, a remote control motorcycle (for some unknown reason), a red hooded sweatshirt, and a state of the art mechanic tool box, among other things.

Damian got some toy weapons that were followed up with real, sleek weapons she must've scoured the internet to find. She also got him some vinyl records and a strange piece of music tech that Damian recognized but I didn't.

Tim got all kinds of tech items and strange trinkets that made him smile but were lost on me. The only one I truly understood was the pair of red lingerie wings that sent him into a fit of laughter.

Babs got a new pair of high-tech glasses, a selfie stick that apparently doubled as some kind of weapon and a shirt that read "#Burnside".

Bruce got two: a mess of tech intended for the creation of ecto-batarangs and a box full of "World's Best Dad" memorabilia.

Alfred got some household supplies and a stack of novels.

I got ecto escrima sticks, acrobatic clothes and toys, a new motorcycle jacket and several nightwing stickers that read "Your butt just got kicked by Nightwing". She said they're for my villains.

Dani had really milked Danny for all the tech he was worth.

Presents were opened until the pile under the tree regurgitated into a mountain of wrapping paper scraps in the middle of the room. We were then all ushered to the dining room where Dani and Alfred laid out plates of cinnamon rolls, donuts and all manners of other breakfast pastries.

Even after we'd all eaten our fill, the plates were still half full, so a few of us continued to eat idly. It's barely ten by the time Dani declares us free to go, though everyone sticks around for a little while longer to chat.

"This was much more successful than Halloween," Bruce comments, and everyone present for that holiday laughs. Dani had dressed up as each of us throughout the day, riding out on her motorcycle and pretending to stop crime. Actually, she did prevent a couple, but mostly she just caused trouble with the cops.

The night ended when she and Damian ended up having a screaming match on top of the pricinct's roof in front of half the force. It caused a lot of drama for the next couple weeks. We actually had to ground Dani from her bike for a little while because Batman was so annoyed at the fallout.

"Have to agree with that," Dani cheers, tipping her glass at the rest of us. "Y'all dress up every night of the year but on the one day it's actually commonplace, you're against it! Unbelievable!"

"Well-" I begin, but Dani cuts me off before I can get going.

"Unbelievable!"

Then she stands up, pushing the chair back. "I have to get going if I'm going to make it to Amity by two. Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedule to indulge me. Merry Christmas!" With that, she grabs another muffin and waves us all goodbye.

After she leaves, the group slowly trickles away. Bruce and Selina head out to do... whatever it is they do, and Damian takes his presents up to his room. Babs, Alfred and I go to help clear out the wrapping paper, only to find it already cleaned up, most likely by Dani.

I gather my gifts and head to my room, fingering the escrima sticks as I do. They're very nicely designed. I wonder if we should let Danny in on our secret so he can make us more weapons like Lucius Fox.

Babs accompanies me, trying on my new jacket as we go.

"This kid might just be the most pure soul I've ever met," she comments when she finds my initials stitched into the inside of the jacket.

"Makes her backstory hard to believe," I agree, stepping into my room. "I mean, can you even imagine her hitting some kid upside the head with a stick?"

"Um, yes. But with petty reasons, not evil ones." She shrugs out of the jacket and drapes it over a chair. "Hey, what's on your bed?"

I stack my pile on the table. "Is that a euphemism?"

"Ha, no," Barbara deadpans, though she is sitting on my bed. "Another gift." She fingers the large package I hadn't seen when I first entered my room. It's wrapped in Nightwing paper, so I can guess who it's from.

"Well, let's see." I slit the paper and pull the box out, tossing the paper off the bed. The box underneath is long and shallow. There's a note taped to the top.

_Dick,_

_Merry Christmas! Or whatever Romani people celebrate; is Romani even a religion, or is it just an ethnicity (I mean, Jewish people are both an ethnicity and a religion…)? Right, so the box: I wanted to be sentimental, but I didn't want you to cry in front of everyone so I put it in your room. Sentimental people tend to cry. Even deep dark bat boys with hardened souls._

_~Dani_

_PS Don't ask me how I found this, because I won't be telling you. But I figured you'd enjoy it regardless of how I found it._

I pull it off slowly, careful not to let the tape tear the paper, and hand it to Barbara. She skims it as I cut the tape off the box. Before I open it, she slides the note back over to me. "You missed something," she informs me, tapping the letter.

I look at it more closely, and find that Dani had used the same code from before to spell **MORSE**. I thought it was a bit strange that she had fit it into a Christmas note, but got the message nonetheless: she'd be communicating to us through morse code now.

"The insult? Don't worry, I definitely saw that." I push the note over to her, nodding to let her know I received the message. For whatever reason, Dani was communicating to us as though someone could see our every move. I haven't been able to ask her about it, but I'm putting my faith in her and am going along with her caution. She's not the paranoid type, so if she's acting like this, it must be bad.

I pull open the box.

"Are those… No way." Barbara leans over to get a better look.

Inside the package is another box made of clear plastic. Side by side are two acrobatic uniforms, with another, smaller one in the lower middle of the two. A small card reading _Haly's Circus in Paris, France. Flying Grayson uniforms _is in the bottom right corner, stamped with a date a little over a year before my parents died.

I place my hand on the box reverently. How in the _world_ did she find these?

Barbara voices my question out loud.

"Who cares?" I answer finally, embarrassed at the thickness of my voice. I clear my throat and pick up the box, placing it in front of my Flying Graysons poster. "I thought all my mom and dad's uniforms were gone. All I have is my own, and it still has…" My voice falters. It still has the blood from when I'd rushed to their sides, held their bodies.

"She knew what it would mean to you," Barbara concludes, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I think you made the right choice bringing her here."

Despite all the secrecy?

"Yeah. I did."

**That took a hot minute. It's really hard writing Christmas in the middle of summer, let me tell you... But it was important for a bunch of reasons. Yes, Dani briefly met Catwoman, and I'll maybe put another scene in there later, but it's not the focus quite yet. All the secrecy and codes from Dani are being used because she met Clockwork (maybe I'll put a scene in with him too) and knows just how catastrophic it is that Vlad has the power to see the future and the past in omniscience. And yes, there is far more to this than there seems to be. I have the plot and my trusty paradox underway and I just need to freaking sit down and write it. **

**Dani will be ghost-forming next chapter and I'm changing her core. In regards to changes in powers, I know I added a little bit more in there but it was just for fun. It won't be a major plot point or anything.**


	26. Chapter 26

"I already have a watch," are the first words out of my mouth when I open Danny's gift.

"You do?"

His expression falls when he catches sight of the sleek watch on my left wrist. I furrow my eyebrows slightly at his disappointment, reminding him, "I've had it on since forever, Danny."

"Oh. My bad. I'll just…" He takes the box holding the watch out of my hands. "Change it into something else."

I tilt my head, a little weirded out. He looks so disappointed. "However clueless you may be," I argue, taking the box back, "It's still from you, so I love it."

"You never struck me as the cheesy type." He reaches for the box again but I hold it out of his reach. "I want to make it into something you'll be able to wear."

"I can wear it now," I snipe back, dodging another grab. "Who says I can't wear two watches?"

"Really, it's okay. I'll have it back to you in two days tops."

"Danny, seriously, cut it out." I hold the box completely out of reach, annoyed with his behavior. "I'm not going to argue with your sad little self-esteem on Christmas day because you forgot that I already wore a watch. I like this watch. It's cool, cooler than the one I'm already wearing. But I have to wear this watch. Luckily, I was cloned from a guy lucky enough to have two arms, and with this amazing blessing, I am capable of wearing both of these watches."

To prove my point, I take the watch out of its box and lay it on my right wrist. I wasn't lying; I do think this watch is way cooler than the shiny black plexiglass on my left wrist. Its wristband is made of light blue material with purple stitching, and it feels durable despite being almost like cloth.

The face is old looking, made of light gray stone with dark etches of roman numerals for the numbers. It isn't covered by glass, leaving the clock hands exposed, though it is encircled by the modern outer portions of a watch. I finger the buttons absently, wondering what they do.

Danny smiles at last.

"You are being so weird," I mutter, pushing aside the wrapping paper from the gift he'd given me. "Anyway, here's _yours_…"

It's considerably less eventful for Danny to open his gift.

With Dick's help, I'd found the most magnificent piece of technology. It worked as a hologram projector for any image. In its memory banks, I'd uploaded several images of the night sky from different hemispheres and time zones. There are even a couple of different star systems from the League's database.

After thoroughly blowing Danny's mind with its ability to project in a sphere or on a ceiling, we joined Danny's friends for another celebration in the snow. Sam and I started a snowball fight against the boys that turned into a war. Eventually, we won, as girls are the superior sex (in my and Sam's opinion, anyway), and all four of us collapsed into the snow, idly making conversation.

"How's living with Batman?" Tucker asks in the ultimate non sequtur.

Not missing a beat, I answer, "It can get annoying because they're always busy. But they teach me stuff, and when they _are_ around, it's awesome." I blow a stream of cold air into the empty space in front of me.

"Teach you stuff?"

"Like how to throw."

Tucker shudders, still traumatized from my triple snowball attack that had hit him into a snowbank with deadly accuracy. "Do they teach you how to fight?"

"Sometimes. They're hot and cold with it. On one hand, they want me to know how to defend myself. On the other, they're afraid I'll be another Stephanie Brown."

"Who's she moonlighting as?" Sam asks lazily.

"She's… Ugh, I don't even know. It switches back and forth between Spoiler and Batgirl. Anyway, she kind of knew kung fu and decided to join the superhero fight. Like Danny, but without the superpowers."

Everyone makes noises of understanding, even Danny.

"So they don't want you being a hero?" Danny asks.

"Yes. N-no? I don't know. Damian says it's inevitable. Bruce says I don't have the dedication. Tim likes teaching me and probably expects me to use it someday. Jason is adamantly against it. And Dick… He refuses to say. All he does is tell me it's my choice and outline the benefits of staying civilian and the dangers of the mask." I sigh, watching my breath steam again. "But he's not against it, per se…"

"Sounds like pressure," Sam announces at once, waving her hand overhead. "You can do whatever you want. It's your life."

"Yes, it is," I muse, and the trio around me falls silent. I close my eyes, settling deeper into the snow. My skin is chilling from the radiating temperature of the snow, but it's also too warm inside my jacket to get up. Besides, my injuries are still healing (Danny's goo works to both stem blood flow and super-healing), and the chill feels wonderful.

All at once, Danny sits up and flips over to me, a hand seizing my wrist and dancing along my watch. I hear a whir and a click, and I pry open an eye. "What?"

"I don't have much time to explain, but basically, the watch is a time medallion. When you press this button-" his finger taps the button on the upper right "-you freeze in time. To Vlad, you'll look like people Clockwork freezes. Right now, it looks like we're both lying in the snow. I have one too-" he slides up the fabric on his wrist to highlight a watch similar to mine "but I'm much more closely watched than you are. Remember that everyone else isn't frozen in time. I've known about Vlad since almost three weeks ago. Clockwork told me and gave me the medallions, but while time was frozen. Vlad doesn't know about them."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know," he grunts in frustration. "I just knew that you're in a household of people who can potentially help us and that Vlad is watching all of us in Amity way too closely. He's watching the _Justice_ _League_ too closely." He breathes heavily, looking at me with desperate eyes. "I know you aren't interested in being a hero. But I need your help."

I place a hand on Danny's, preparing the words that have been floating around in my head for a while now. "I've always been interested in being a hero. I just didn't want my DNA to decide my life. I didn't want to be Dani Phantom, the gender-bent sequel. I'm not your copy. But I've always known I'd be a hero eventually.

"I've learned a lot in the four years I've been alive. I'm a language savant, did you know that? I know twelve, maybe more. I'm a master escape artist, with or without ghost powers. I'm an amateur chef and artist, I can throw weapons with accuracy and I drive motorcycles. I kind of know karate and I've been studying acrobatics. I know how to slip information to my brothers in code. And I know I'm not your copy. I'm your cousin, your sister, whatever… I'm me. And I'm _alive_."

I release his hand and fix him with as earnest a stare as I can manage. "I was born a villain, and you and my other family have helped me live long enough to become the hero you all saw in me. Not your cloned sidekick, not another Robin, but something in between. Vlad may have time powers, but you have me." I settle back in the snow and prime my grip to push the button on my watch again. "Now turn time back on so it doesn't look like we're suffocating."

Danny, in some sort of awe, lies down again. I push the button, and the watch clicks again.

Throughout all this, Sam and Tuck had been perfectly silent, undoubtedly listening but betraying nothing. Now, Tucker sits up. "Hey, Dani-"

"Which one?" Danny and I chorus.

"With an i. While you're here, why don't you transform? You must be _dying_ to blow off some energy."

"Wow, you're hilarious," Sam deadpans. Danny helps her to stand but doesn't relinquish her hand afterwards.

"Not really," I reply, standing as well. "It's urgency goes away after a while."

"That's never happened to me." Danny shrugs. "Want to anyway?"

I raise an eyebrow at the three of them. We shouldn't be testing my energy levels while Vlad could be watching. Danny notices my hesitation and flicks his watch.

"We want to see if you still can, Dani," he explains in a rush. "We're not going to test your powers or anything."

He clicks his watch again.

That's it?

Not releasing my weirded-out gaze, I delve deep inside myself to fumble for the feeling of my ghost form. It'd been so long since I'd last used it. I mastered using small amounts of energy without switching over almost two years ago, and there'd been no reason to.

The feeling of my ghost form washing away my human one greets me like an old friend. Energy surges through my bloodstream. The cold fades to a forgotten sensation. My feet drift off the snow.

"Whoa," Sam breathes. "It looks like you've changed your uniform on your own."

I open my eyes, greeted by the sight of before with enhanced vision. It isn't much more than night vision and a clarity that my human vision can't grant me, but it makes me feel powerful nonetheless. At Sam's exclamation, I look down at myself.

Sam snaps a picture and forks over her cell phone so I can see it all.

My jumpsuit has melded into a one-piece, still skin tight but plated with the same material Babs uses for her Batgirl uniform. The black/white splice of my former jumpsuit is now a white middle with black running down the sides. A black jacket, little more than just sleeves and a collar, runs to my wrists. The jumpsuit ends at boots and gloves that are white with black accents. A double belt-one black and the other white-hugs my hips, crossing in the middle of my body.

Besides that, my hair remains the style it was in my human form, albeit white and flowing in a nonexistent breeze. My eyes glow the familiar radioactive green of Phantom.

But the most shocking change in my uniform is the symbol on my chest. It used to be Danny's DP logo, but now instead of a P being inside an open D, there is now a closed D with a bat opening.

I place my hand on the symbol, almost cautiously.

"It's different. I like it." Danny gives his approval with his words as well as a proud sparkle in his eye.

"You weren't kidding about being with Batman, huh?" Sam takes her phone back. I tug my ponytail, awkward at the inflection of Sam's question. "No, no, it's good! You've grown up into this awesome double hero!"

"Do you have a name?" Tucker asks.

"No. I'm not even officially a hero yet. I'll figure out my name when I make my debut."

I float higher experimentally, the sensation both familiar and foreign. Flying is like riding a bike; I remember how to balance, how to hold myself, how to move. But the feeling of weightlessness, of total equilibrium… I haven't felt this disconnected since I was… thirteen?

Danny switches to his ghost form without warning, floating up to me with a tilt to his smile. I wonder vaguely if I should incorporate green into my costume as Danny has done, but decide against it as I'm not sure how my costume changed in the first place.

"Race?" he suggests, not losing the mischievous glint in his eye.

"You are so on," I banter back, rising higher in the air.

"Where to?"

"I'll let you decide that! THREETWOONEGO!"

I take off through the trees, switching between intangibility and dodging to get through them before I catch a flash of shadow on the ground beside me. Twisting in the air, I catch sight of Danny easily keeping pace with me above the trees, waving when I notice him.

I narrow my eyes to glare, but he's suddenly not above me, crashed into a tree he hadn't seen because he was too busy gloating.

Not one to waste a gift, I take to the skies and add more speed, soaring only higher when reaching the city's edge.

"Sam and Tucker are going to be so ticked," I call out to Danny, who's caught up again.

"We'll go back for them."

"Maybe whoever loses goes back for them."

"Deal! To my house!"

The conversation halts again with the roar of the wind. I can tell Danny isn't going top speed, as he stays close to me even though he could easily outpace me. After all, he did catch up despite slamming into a tree at /- 200 mph. His legs have morphed, though I recognize mine have not. Annoyed, I only add more speed, but they fail to conjoin.

"I WIN!" Danny crows, swooping down to circle the op center. "Take that!"

"Please! We all knew you were going to before we even started," I bite back, folding my arms in contempt. "You were faster than me the whole time."

"I've had six years practice," he boasts, still flaunting with various superhero poses. I charge a finger and zap him in the thigh.

My finger tingles, unused to the sensation of ectoplasm, and I unconsciously rub it.

"Spoilsport," he whines, hand on his thigh.

"Sore winner," I shoot back, darting away when he launches himself forward in retaliation.

"I think it's sore _loser_," he insists, trailing after me as we leisurely float back the way we came.

"Why must everyone hate on my idioms? I mean, the people that said them are dead. It's not like I'm offending them."

"What if they're ghosts?"

"Tell you what: if the ghostly manifestation of the person who first said 'sore loser' wants to come personally correct me, I'll accept the criticism graciously."

Danny grins as we continue to soar through the sky.

"Are you going to the League's party?" I ask all at once, realizing Dick is probably there now.

"No. I spend way too much time with them already. This is the only day off from ghost hunting I get for the entire year… I want to spend it with my family."

"Yet you're spending it with me…"

"You are family, Dani. 'Sides, I spent all morning with them."

We alight on the snow beside Sam and Tucker, who are in a heated discussion about some kind of school project.

"What took you guys so long?" Sam demands, breaking off from her argument with Tucker. "I swear you spend all that time flying around with the League with no improvement to show for it. I'm freezing!"

"Somebody's being her normal goth self," Danny teases, losing his ghost form as he drops down in front of her. "Which, for Christmas, is totally strange." I clumsily change my form, dropping into the snow with much less practice. Preoccupied with my balance, I almost miss the kiss Danny and Sam share.

"Tucker, I'm confused," I announce loudly, lifting my hand above my eyes as if searching for something. "I don't see any mistletoe! Isn't it bad luck to kiss on Christmas without mistletoe?"

"I think it should be," Tucker grins, playing into my charade. "I mean, something has to stop them. Maybe they'll get mono and be forced to keep their mouths to themselves."

Sam rolls her eyes at our display, letting her hands fall from Danny's shoulders. "We do _not_ kiss that often."

"Don't be so melodramatic," Danny adds, lacing his gloved fingers through Sam's.

"Wow, five syllables," I say in mock-awe. "College _is_ making an impact on you."

Danny rolls his eyes. "Sooo, Christmas dinner, anyone?"

We drop Tucker off on the way to FentonWorks, since his mom always makes an extra stuffed meatloaf-in addition to four other meat entrees-for Christmas dinner. Sam's parents are off in France and had left Sam to her own devices, making her the second guest in the Fenton household.

"Hey, we're back," Danny calls when he enters the house. We start shrugging out of our gear. I revel in the homey, warm feeling of this place in contrast to the airy feel of Wayne Manor. They might be a family, but it can hardly be seen in the house around them like this place. "Hope we didn't keep you waiting."

He hangs his jacket up before catching sight of the jacket next to it. I wouldn't have noticed if Danny hadn't stared so long. Quickly he breaks his gaze and helps Sam shrug out of her jacket, giving me ample opportunity to search the pockets of it discreetly.

Nothing but gloves and a handkerchief. I withdraw them anyway for good measure, discovering initials stitched into the corner.

VM.

Instead of panic, my heart drops into a sort of resigned acceptance.

"Thanks for the gift," I mutter to Danny, slipping my shoes back on in two fluid movements. He catches the handkerchief as I move to put it back in the pocket and fixes his glare on the letters. His jaw and hands tighten, his eyes very briefly flashing green.

"No, Dani, you're not leaving. I'm going-"

"Danny!" shouts a loud, boisterous voice. Seconds later, the three of us are cornered in the hallway by a huge man clothed in an orange jumpsuit. Jack Fenton is a family man; this much is obvious by the large hug he encircles all three of us with. "And the other Dani! A pleasure to meet you!" Every sentence is said with an exclamation point, his joyful attitude prominent in every word.

"Leaving," I gasp from his embrace. He lets go with a cheerful smile.

"Of course not! You must meet my wife, Maddie! MADDIE! Come meet Danny's clone! Vladdie! Did you know we have a Danny-boy and a Dani-girl?"

"_Why_ is Vlad _here_," Danny hisses at his father.

Jack ignores his hostility and slaps him on the back, jerking him towards Sam. She steadies him, her gaze fixed on me. "He had nowhere else to go! He's our friend, Danny! You wouldn't have us turn friends out on Christmas, would you?"

"Would you, Daniel?" Vlad mocks, just sincere enough for Maddie and Jack to overlook his taunt.

I dart under Jack's arms. "Bye, Danny, Sam," I breathe to them, flickering out of visibility without another thought. Yet months under the Bat's roof prevent me from leaving just yet.

"Where'd Dani-girl go?" Jack asks Danny, his joyful smile turning into something that might've been a puppy dog pout on someone younger.

Danny grits his teeth, his eyes on the verge of flashing again. "She had to go," he snarls, directing all of his hostility to Vlad. He merely smiles, fidgeting with the cuffs of his cashmere sweater with an expression that might've been innocence on someone more… innocent.

"A shame," Vlad tells Danny politely. "She seemed like such a nice girl."

"I don't want you here," Danny states very seriously. Sam places a hand on his elbow and he snatches it with his other hand, holding her tightly. "I don't like you." His eyes flick to his dad, who's looking appalled at his son's manners. "But, in the _spirit of Christmas_" it comes out like a hiss "we'll pretend you're allowed three miles within our house."

His glare intensifies but Sam drags him through the hallway, into the dining room. Jack apologizes to Vlad, looking beyond confused, and follows his son. Vlad coolly slides his gaze onto me, seeing right through my invisibility (or perhaps just looked in time to see I'd stayed, who knows).

"Run along now," he taunts, "like a good little coward."

My eyes flutter shut; my breath stalls. Two separate needs demand my attention at the same time: the need to make a remark that would make his blood boil, and the equal need to put distance between the two of us.

The latter wins, and I silently slip out the door and into the frigid outdoors, leaving the Fenton family behind me.

* * *

"What are you doing home?" Damian demands the second I pop off my helmet.

"I'm tired." I set the helmet on the motorcycle.

"You said you'd probably stay the night."

"I didn't."

I sidestep him and continue towards the stairs, trying to ignore his attempts to place himself in front of me.

"Why not?"

Petulant. He's a petulant child. Spoiled, rich brat.

"I didn't feel like it."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Well, we already established that, didn't we?" I snap, my suppressed anger making its inevitable comeback. "Leave me alone!"

His expression registers the slightest flicker of surprise. I don't often snap at anyone, not _really_ snap. It's always playful, or at least without true anger. The surprise quickly fades, however, and his mask of neutral curiosity slips in place once more.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I answer truthfully. Technically, nothing _did_ happen. It's just what _could've_ happened. "Why aren't you at the League's party? Is that where everyone else is?"

"Jason is with his Outlaws and Tim with the Titans. Do not redirect the question. There is something you aren't telling me."

He follows me through the manor and up to my room.

"It's none of your business."

"You live under my roof. It _is _my business."

I look sideways at him. Everyone in this household took it upon themselves to never use that particular card against me. Last time Damian used it, Dick forced Damian to apologize. I never had to say that a comment like that hurt me down to my core; they just knew.

After a beat of silence, Damian scoffs quietly. "Fine. I withdraw the statement. But you cannot expect to make such a monumental deal of a holiday spent with Daniel Fenton and come home early with no explanation as to why."

"That's exactly what I'm doing."

I shrug off my snow clothes while stoically ignoring Damian's gaze. When I toss them into my wardrobe, a pair of shoes stand out to me. "You went through my things," I deadpan.

"I did not."

I turn a flat glare to him. "I live in a house of bats." I point to the pair of shoes. "I put these shoes perfectly aligned, one stitch off." I point to the stitches. "Now they're just perfectly aligned." Moving my pointer finger up to the racks of clothes, I come to a dress. "All my dresses are haphazardly thrown on the hangers, but this one is on perfectly. Now it's matching all the others." Turning to my desk, I scan the mess before coming to another marker I'd placed. "The nib of this pen was perfectly between the words 'the' and 'inside'. Now it's in between 'inside'." I turn back to him. "Do I need to find more?"

Damian scoffs. "Fine. So I looked through your things. You had a bag of belongings when you came here, but it's not in this room. Where is it?"

I look up at the sky in exasperation. "Wow. You… are… Whatever. You know what, whatever! Damian is incapable of sin, I see that now! For your information, it is in this room. You just haven't found it. Now get out!"

He stares me down, but I refuse to step down.

Finally, he averts his eyes and his face softens. "What's wrong?"

The earnest question surprises me. I sigh, long and hard. "I'm tired. Can you please, _please_, just leave me alone?"

"Dani…"

"Can we just pretend that's it? Can we pretend that I'd rather go to bed than meet Danny's family and eat probably radioactive dinner and make snide comments about Danny and Sam's relationship? Can we just pretend, just for the rest of tonight, that Masters is _not_ an old friend of the Fentons, and that I only left because I'd rather get some rest? Please?"

Damian's eyes widen a fraction at the name. He opens his mouth to say something, but I'm done with the conversation. I climb into my bed and pull the covers over my head.

"You're still here, aren't you."

"The katanas in my room," he answers, coming from the foot of my bed. I didn't even hear him move… Guess that's an assassin for you. "They're ancient. Their workmanship is flawless. Where did you get them?"

"I won them in Japan," I mumble into my pillow. "Something about curses and samurai and temples… I stumbled on an ancient prophecy and got wrapped up in this clan war or something. I lose track. It happens a lot."

"So you kept the katanas?"

"I left them in the temple. But you like that kind of swords, so I called them up and asked them to be shipped here. They delivered them personally, so that was nice of them."

"Who?"

"The monks of the temple. Kannushis, I think they're called." I don't say that the katanas were worshipped because Phantom was the one who had used them. He saved the kannushis from Vlad's rule when he went rampaging through time three years ago. A couple of years back I'd stumbled upon it and ended up transforming and saving the temple from destruction. They gave me the katanas as a gift but I'd declined, but when I sent a letter asking for them back they couldn't deliver them fast enough.

Ancient blades. I thought Damian would appreciate them, and I'm glad he does.

"You gave Drake, Todd and Grayson mementos of their parents," Damian reproaches.

"You aren't the sentimental type," I reply. "I wanted to give you something from me that you'd be able to use. These are priceless, so I hope you'll at least hang them up."

Silence falls. I stay under my blanket.

"Are you still mad I set you on fire?"

He doesn't answer, so I peek out discreetly from my blanket. The slightest flicker of a smile glows in the moonlight. "Yes."

Silence again. Next time I peek out, he's sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Why are you staying?" I mean it to sound rude, but it comes out more curious than anything.

"It's Christmas," he replies.

He's there until long after I pretend to fall asleep.

* * *

**Next chapter reveals part of Vlad's plot, and some of Dani's involvement. I haven't written it yet, though, so I'm not sure what's going to be in it yet. Thanks for reading!**

**Some quick review responses: Yes, the review on Selina did encourage me to involve her in the Christmas party. Again, I may or may not add more with her. And the costumes... Technically she bought them, but she had to be pretty aggressive to get the owners to give them up. The Flying Graysons weren't famous, but they were the best acrobats in the world and now that they're gone, I'm willing to bet the price on their merch has gone up. And Vlad's time powers are limited to sight only, not travel. I'll go more into depth with it in later chapters, though. **

**~Disclaimer disclaimer~**


	27. Chapter 27

Though the technology Dani supplied us with on Christmas day had successfully warded off all ghostly encounters, it failed to reveal their plan. Ghosts were still in the background of many of the major crimes that had popped up, with no discernible reason. They never spoke, followed orders with the step-by-step methodology of an algorithm and were immune to all types of physical, mental and extraterrestrial attacks.

Phantom had captured a significant amount of the spirits with his containment device, though every time he tried to empty it he was met with nonsentient ectoplasm. And though he often threw around theories as to what the shades are and who is weaponizing them, he has done very little in the way of detective work.

After another unsuccessful raid of a warehouse in Eastern Russia, and a rough debriefing at the hands of Batman, there's nothing more I'd rather do than hang with Dani, despite the strange behavior that had followed her since Christmas. I'd never understood the concept of letting an issue sit in your mind while you did something else, having been trained by Batman to pound a problem until you saw every possible angle. But hanging out with Dani clears my head, lets the problem puzzle itself out. I need that right now.

Damian and Dani are sparring when I return to the BatCave. She'd gotten astronomically better at fighting Damian, though her technique is still a mess. In fighting, she never makes the same mistake twice, and her moves are creative and hard to block, but she fails to adapt quickly enough to new attacks.

Against Damian, however, she definitely holds her own, as they had been trading blows since she moved in. Dani understands his attack style and patterns and acts accordingly. Her strange combinations, on the other hand, disorient Damian and keeps him on the defensive side.

As I watch, Dani avoids a roundhouse kick with a flying, hail mary kick to Damian's supporting leg. Damian lands a solid blow to Dani's jaw just as she crashes into him, and they both tumble into a pile on the floor.

I'm glad Batman isn't here. He'd be mortified.

"What was that?" Damian demands, disentangling himself from the pile he and Dani had landed in. "Attacks that leave both you and your assailant disabled are flawed in their very design! You not only leave yourself open for a final blow but only injure your assailant minimally- Oh." He abandons his rant, observing the unconscious form of Dani.

I chuckle from my standpoint, earning a half-hearted glare from Damian. He grabs a water bottle from nearby and pours it on Dani's face.

Immediately, Dani jerks awake and splutters, waving away the stream of water and, when that doesn't work, rolls to the side. "Rude!" she shrieks, shucking off the water in jerky movements. "Last time I spar with you!"

Damian waves her threat away, knowing full well Dani doesn't mean one word.

"Can I steal her from you?" I ask Damian good-naturedly, winking at Dani over his head.

Damian doesn't respond, simply waving us both off and walking away. Dani grins at me once Damian is a sufficient distance away.

"_The_ Nightwing wants to hang out?" she teases, tugging out her ponytail and shaking her wet hair out.

"Yes, _the_ Nightwing does," I reply.

"No crisises? Crisi? Sorry. No problems?"

"Oh, always. But unless someone calls me, literally about to be stabbed through with a sword, I'm spending the next few hours with you."

"Hm, I can live with that." Dani grins at me. "Video games?"

"Sure."

We walk upstairs, chatting aimlessly while Dani fights with the monster that is her hair. As I'd hoped, the conversation never veers into the conundrum that is the ghost issue, and I can feel myself relax.

In her room, Dani sets on a song before turning on the entertainment system. "Super Smash Bros?"

"Mario Kart. I need some non-combat for a while."

"So you have wished it, so shall it be."

Ignoring my quirked eyebrow, she pops in the disk and jumps onto the seat beside me, brandishing her controller. The loading screen pops up, but the music never does. I guess we're listening to her music today.

The song Dani chooses is strange. Its beats aren't set in a four-four or three-four pattern; they vary from two to four without warning. But, if Dani likes it, why not, I guess.

We play four rounds before I get sick of the song, which Dani had stuck on repeat. "Can we change the song?" I ask, trying to keep the whine out of my voice and failing.

"No," she answers bluntly.

"Why not?"

"You'll understand, in time." She winks.

"But it's awful. Music is supposed to have tension and release, and this is all tension."

"Sounds like a personal problem to me," she sasses, passing my kart in the game just to spite me.

I sigh, returning to the game.

No matter how annoyed I am at the song, Dani remains firm and keeps it on for three hours straight. It nearly drives me crazy. The singing and guitar compliment each other nicely, but the way the bass moves is so off-setting. Fortunately, I'm able to ignore it... For the most part.

It has just reached the chorus again when my watch flashes a bright red. Glancing over at Dani, I find that hers is doing the same.

PERIMETER BREACH, reads the message on the watch face. ECTOPLASMIC ENERGY SIGNATURE G-9-12.

Level nine? Level nine is bad. With a glance at Dani, I confirm that this is what she'd been afraid of at the Christmas dance. The muscles in her arms tighten and her fingers start to shake, but her mouth sets into a firm line.

"The breach is in the Cave," Dani informs me before I can say anything.

My determination falters for an instant as I read the information on my watch again. She's right; the breach suggests an attack against Batman, not Dani. Still, I'm hesitant to leave her. This room is one of the most protected against ghosts entering, but the shield doesn't keep out humans to the same effect. They could be trying to draw me out so another-

"I'm going to be just fine," Dani snaps, walking over to her armoire. After throwing open the doors, she rifles inside and comes back with a weapon. "I have the ghost shields, my belt, and this thing. Even if all fails, I've got my failsafe." She taps her watch. I'm still not sure what information she keeps hidden in her daily reminders, but whatever it is, it must be pretty incriminating against Masters.

Her confidence doesn't put me at ease, but I recognize the need to aide my family downstairs. There's no doubt in my mind that they've already engaged the ghost, but the watch continues to flash so it's obvious they haven't subdued it.

At last, I nod, sending her one more worried glance before dashing out of the room and down the stairs. I need to get my ecto-escrima sticks from my room and change into my spare suit. It's unlikely the ghost hasn't already deduced the true identity of the owners of the BatCave, but with something as important as our identities, it's better safe than sorry.

In less than two minutes I've transformed from Dick Grayson into Nightwing, and in two more I've accessed entry into the BatCave. Normal transportation has been shut down to trap the intruder, but there are traditional ways to enter the Cave in times like this. I choose the fireman pole that is hidden behind the back of my closet. It's only used in times like these. I say this because, to prove authenticity if our house was searched, the pole hides behind a real wall that I have to break down to access.

Without wasting a moment of time to mourn my destroyed wall, I slip through the hole and clamp my legs around the pole, readying my hands to withdraw anything at a moment's notice.

The second I clear the tunnel, a bright light rockets towards me. Narrowly dodging the ectoblast by swinging around the pole and throwing my weight away from it, I tumble into the air, simultaneously throwing several explosive disks.

My mind catalogs information as I deploy a grappling hook, rapidly sending my mind information. The ghost, by all appearances, is Plasmius. He has duplicated himself several times, multiple engaging with a single Bat at once. Tim had been in his room but was now in uniform, fending off five Plasmius duplicates at once. Damian was having less success with two, having been caught without his weapons in reach.

Batman himself had the most swarming him, making visuals difficult. Another two join the fight against me, not bothering to let me land first.

What makes me nervous is the original has yet to show himself. Or maybe one of these duplicates is the original, though I highly doubt it. Plasmius has been known to make hundreds of duplicates at once, though their individual power decreases as they divide. The original must be using these as a distraction.

Still, as far as distractions go, this one's pretty distracting.

Barely avoiding another searing blast, I twist horizontally in the air, rearing up on of my sticks and letting it fly right at Plasmius's face.

"Brat!" the Plasmius beside my target snarls. The stick had been electrified going through, which disrupted Plasmius's control and left me with only another to deal with. My next stick is thrown at the remaining face, but it misses completely as the singular Plasmius becomes two.

"My, that was ill-advised," the Plasmius on the right taunts, looking at my thrown escrima sticks with a coy smile. "Now you don't have any weapons that can touch me!"

"Except for the old fashioned ones," I banter back, immediately coming in for several hits. Though Plasmius turns intangible, I'm wearing my Christmas belt and they land just the same. Finishing them both off with a side split that smashes both of their heads and destroys them, I flip to a landing.

Okay, it shouldn't have been that easy. Sprinting over to where the others had been fighting, I see they'd recuperated and that their duplicates were also destroyed. Only one Plasmius remains, tugging on a utility belt strapped on his waist.

"Can't get out of that, can you?" Tim taunts, wiping a gloved hand across the line of blood trickling from the side of his mouth.

"Yes, yes," Plasmius mocks, abandoning his efforts in escaping the belt in order to blast away the thermos Bruce had produced. "Quite clever. I'm impressed to find you possess the intelligence of a fourteen year old boy, yet your solution has only confined my great power into a single entity." He blasts all of us with a full range burst of energy, sending us all back. "It does nothing to lessen my powers."

To prove as much, he comes at me, though I manage to dodge the initial attack and land a solid kick to his lower back.

While his intangibility does no good, his invisibility, unfortunately, remains intact.

Though I try to focus on the movements of the air, he can fly very quickly. I dodge several attacks, aided by the attacks of my family, but my momentum for keeping up with them is lost when he clips my side and sends me sprawling. Tim intervenes but is thrown away. Another punch to my chest sends me flying, but before I can recover, he has flown past me and has grabbed my legs, swinging me around so he can throw me another direction.

I brace myself for a very painful collision, knowing I'm going too fast to simply grapple away, but the unrelenting rock wall of the cave never meets my shoulders. Instead, I rocket right into another duplicate, sending him into the wall.

Though stunned, I make it to my feet relatively quickly, whirling around to face yet another-

"Phantom!" Of course, it wasn't a duplicate. It seems stupid for thinking that now.

"Hey…" he returns, floating gently off the crater I'd caused him to make. He rubs his chest with a pained expression before his eyes widen and a shield pours around us. "I got the call as soon as he alerted the ghost sensors," Phantom informs me, still focused on Plasmius with hardening eyes. "I just had to get to a different Zeta Beam to get here. Sorry it took so long."

"No problem, you're right-"

Before I can finish, Phantom has taken his shield and confronted Plasmius. They trade several blows as the rest of us regroup and then split up again. I retrieve my escrima sticks as Damian visits the armory. Bruce and Tim each find their own posts at the computer, one undoubtedly pulling down the shield keeping us from the rest of the world and the other trying to find what Plasmius was doing.

As soon as I retrieve my sticks, Phantom is blown back through another wall-literally, with his intangibility power. Plasmius focuses on Tim and Bruce, but I successfully attack him and turn his attention to me. "Surprised to see me?"

Plasmius groans, flicking his hand and sending a wave of ecto-energy at me. I horizontally flip over it, landing another blow before I even stop spinning.

"Annoying," Plasmius mutters, creating a large shield in front of me right before getting attacked from behind by Phantom.

"Miss me?" Phantom quips, though his voice is dark and tight, nothing like the carefree quips he's often seen using when fighting against other foes. Even when they're serious baddies, like Darkseid or Granny Goodness, the darkest his voice gets is off-handedly annoyed.

"Oh, _Phantom_," Plasmius sneers, recovering quickly and launching his own counterattack. "Regardless of your affiliations with the League and the excess training you've received because of it, I still have _twenty years_ on you. Even if I cannot duplicate, I can still single-handedly defeat you and all these pesky bats."

Plasmius and Phantom lock into another bitter battle, though Plasmius always seems to block his opponent's attacks before he can even begin them. He does the same for us. Damian returns with a Thermos (I know, I don't get the name either), but Plasmius destroys it before any of us can react.

Plasmius whips around while I aim an escrima stick at his head and catches it, deftly snapping it in half. "Hey!" I shout in angry indignation. "That was a gift!"

Plasmius turns back to his original fight, catching Phantom's fist and tossing him back with a punch with his free hand. Phantom flips in the air, briefly holding his stomach before righting himself.

Growling in frustration, Phantom lets loose a large blast of energy, but Plasmius has already disappeared from the line of fire, leaving me and Tim to receive the painful wall of energy.

"You see?" Plasmius taunts again. "There is nothing you can do that I cannot foresee. And you can hardly make up for it with your meager years of existence."

Tim and I pick ourselves up, Damian joining my side and Bruce moving to Phantom. Phantom is the only other carrier of a Thermos in the general vicinity, and technically the only ally able to do real damage.

Plasmius smirks, just before I catch a shadow appear from the ceiling that descends above Plasmius's head.

Dani swings an ecto bo staff like a bat, hitting Plasmius's head with the devastation of a home run.

Plasmius is knocked to the side, howling in surprise at that attack.

"What about _my_ meager years of existence?" Dani taunts as she continues to tumble through the air. Phantom swoops down to catch her, and she readily adjusts herself in his grip, brandishing her weapon.

"Fabulous," Plasmius drawls, conjuring another blast in each hand. "There are more of you."

He throws them both, one at the flying duo and the other at Damian and I. We both dodge out of the way, throwing exploding disks. Phantom drops Dani, who immediately sprints towards Plasmius, holding the glowing staff in both hands. Plasmius doesn't heed her approach, instead focused on Phantom's high attack of a swirling ball of green and blue ectoplasm. He dances away easily, leaving him open for a hard blow of Dani's staff on his chest.

"Why can't I see-" Plasmius roars in frustration, focusing on Dani and momentarily forgetting about Phantom.

The two dance Plasmius's attention back and forth between them. Plasmius has to dodge Phantom's brutal attacks while skirting away from Dani's cleverly placed hits. After only a few back-and-forths, I signal to Damian and we enter the fight ourselves with two blows that are empowered by our utility belts.

Plasmius grows tired of this and makes a shield around himself, blowing us all back by expanding it rapidly. He flies higher, and this time Phantom doesn't follow, floating protectively in front of Dani. Plasmius's enraged glare bounces between the two before a mask of carefully practiced charisma fixes itself on his demonic face. "I see," he comments off-handedly, before fixing his carefree gaze on Phantom. "I think we know each other well enough, dear boy, to know this is very well not over."

He flashes a drive at us from between his fingers, setting it inside his suit before waving goodbye. Phantom makes a dash for Plasmius but is blown back by a final, devastating blow-making it obvious that Plasmius had not entirely given his all in the fight. He laughs haughtily before fading out, but not before he's blasted square in the chest by none other than a glaring Dani.

"GIRL-" he roars, before twisting himself into a ball and disappearing completely into mist.

Dani flicks her bangs back, lowering her gun as she does, before casting us a look and a wink.

Phantom picks himself up from the painful collision he'd had with the wall, rubbing his back and frowning. He floats back over to us.

Batman glares at him. I know he's frustrated at whatever Plasmius got away with, just as he's frustrated that Phantom couldn't stop him. Phantom seems to sense this and raises his hands in surrender.

Instead, Batman turns to Dani. "He could sense all of us coming, but not you," Batman states bluntly, not even bothering to ask a question.

In response, Dani pulls down her right sleeve, displaying the other watch she wore. From what she told us, it was a Christmas gift from Danny. "It freezes me in time," Dani explains. Phantom glances at her with a deathly worried expression, and she nods reassuringly. "Here's the thing: Plasmius can see all of Time. Basically, he's omniscient. Right now, he can't hear what I'm saying, but he can gauge how you react.

"Danny told me about this, because Danny and Phantom work pretty closely in their line of work. Apparently, when Batman died to release the Omega Sanction, Vlad timed his arrival in order to absorb the energy. That way, he could finally get a one-up on Phantom. They're pretty equally matched. He's blackmailing… Well, all of us. Danny, Phantom and I, anyway. We're not supposed to tell you about his advantage, in exchange for the well-being of the entire world. Take my explanation as whatever lie you would believe in this situation."

She waves her arms to end her explanation, avoiding the looks we're all giving her by keeping her eyes closed.

I roll my eyes under my mask, secretly celebrating at the next piece of the puzzle Dani had offered us. But the word _blackmail_ leaves me nervous. If it concerns the whole world… The secret it's protecting must be big.

Batman doesn't even hesitate. He stares Phantom down. "And the ability of limited premonition didn't seem pertinent when I requested your enemies' list of powers?"

Phantom hesitates for only a second, which can be easily misinterpreted as his incredible awkwardness around authority. "It must be new! Or at least, he's never used it before! Or maybe he has…" Phantom goes quiet, considering.

I call Batman's attention next. "What did he take?"

Batman's frown deepens. "Contingency plans for the entire Justice League."

* * *

Later that night, as I lie in bed trying-and failing-to get some sleep, my mind runs endless circles around what Plasmius could use those plans for. To take down the League, obviously, but in what specific way? One by one, all at once? And for what purpose? What does this ghost want with the world of the living?

My frustration is only escalated by the awful song Dani had gotten stuck in my head. Just as I can't answer any of these questions, I also can't stop that chorus from repeating itself over and over.

_If I had a diamond heart…_

And the bass, thrumming short-long-long-short, instead of a beat beat beat beat pattern that you would normally hear in a song.

_I give you all my love…_

Beat beat beat beat. Now it's normal.

_If I was unbreakable._

Short long… Unnatural pause, long short. Awful, discordant, tense. So tense. And it won't leave me alone!

_If I had a diamond heart..._

A long beat, another unnatural pause, and three more long tones from the base. The song doesn't even end correctly, being cut off maybe two or three measures before it would actually end. It's like Dani wanted it to get stuck in my head.

_You could shoot me with a gun of gold…_

Two more long beats and the bass cuts off, leaving the words hanging. It's like Dani _wanted _it… to get stuck...

_If I was unbreakable…_

Short short. Pause. Short short short. I. S.

My brain goes through the lyrics again. If those unnatural pauses are separating letters…

Short-long-long-short. P.

The Christmas letter Dani gave me. _Morse_ code. She sent me a message!

P. H. A. N. T. O. M. I. S. F. E. N. T. O. N.

A. N. D. S. O. A. M. I.

* * *

**I hope this chapter was worth the wait... The song, by the way, is _Diamond Heart_ by Alan Walker. I was listening to it and the way it uses bass really fit with my idea to slip Dani's secret into a song, so I used it. **

**One of the big climaxes I've been working up to is happening in this next chapter, but it might be a while before I get it out because I have a busy next couple of weeks and I want to make this one perfect. As far as I can gather, there are going to be around 6 or 7 more chapters in this story. I've also started toying with my sorceress Sam idea, and it's shaping up to be a pretty good storyline, so you guys can expect that sometime after this one is completed. **

**Anyway, can't wait to read your reviews! Thanks for reading, and see you next chapter ;)**


	28. Chapter 28

"Where are you going?" Damian asks bluntly when I grab my motorcycle jacket and helmet. I regard him silently as I slip my arms through the dark blue and black leather. "Did you ask?"

Bristling at his petulant demand, I harden my glare. "FOR ANYONE WHO DEIGNS TO QUESTION ME," I shout, continuing to stare Damian down, "I AM GOING TO RIDE THIS MOTORCYCLE TO GO VISIT ROY HARPER, THE ORIGINAL ROY HARPER. SHALL I CONTINUE TO HIGHLIGHT TONIGHT'S ITINERARY?"

"No thanks," Tim offers from the next level. Damian's frown is downright nasty, his arms folded to more properly broadcast his displeasure with my outburst.

Dick appears from the uniform room, his face slightly red from where he'd pulled the mask off. "Dani," he greets, a little breathless. I raise an eyebrow. Dick is not one to be breathless.

It takes me a moment, but eventually I recognize the look in his eyes: the way it analyzes me for hidden movements, the linger on my hair and skin, the distant awe. He knows. He figured it out. For the slightest instant, my head tilts, and he nods.

Damian's head swivels between us, struggling to catch the deeper meaning to our slight inclinations. "Damian is being a girl," I blurt impulsively. It wasn't entirely on purpose; my only thought was redirecting Damian before he drew more attention to Dick and I's silent conversation.

"I am not," Damian snaps, immediately readying for a fight.

"Stop it, both of you." Dick steps between us, interrupting a very intense stare-down. "Damian, why are you trying to stop Dani?"

"With the Plasmius-ghost running around with contingency plans for the entire Justice League and an unknown personal grudge against her, I would _assume_ that leaving the safety of the Manor is _unwise_."

"Good point," Dick allows, "though Dani does have her own means of protection as well as a failsafe." Damian scowls. "Dani, where do you want to go?"

"I shouldn't have to say," I groan, but decide surrendering the information is preferable to the argument that will come if I don't. "But I'm going to go see Roy in East Gotham, if your benevolence will allow it."

Dick looks me up and down. "What's your problem today?"

"I don't have a _problem_," I stress, "but I am anxious to get going and you guys are holding me up for absolutely no reason at all." Dick looks amused, so I keep going, continuing to get more and more irritated. "It's like you're stopped at a green light and my wife's having a baby. So can I _please_ get to the hospital?"

Dick chuckles and waves me along, turning back to Damian, who pouts to him about my calling him a girl.

I disregard their conversation and head towards my motorcycle, popping on my helmet as I go. After pumping up the music in the built-in speakers, I start the motorcycle and rev it forward.

Roy agreed to meet me in the East Side of Gotham, which is a crime and poverty ridden district with multiple assaults, muggings and murders occurring nightly. Arsenal and I prefer to call it late night target practice, and it's what we do whenever we hang out in Gotham.

I park my bike in the sewers beneath our typical meeting place, making sure to lock both the bike and the helmet. The only time I'd forgotten, Roy and I had to spend half the night tracking down where it went. Turned out to be a thief that had been evading even the Bats (though their recent distractions certainly helped), and he was so good he only made one mistake: taking _my _motorcycle. Anyway, we ended up getting the guy but it was an annoying experience, so I'm still locking up just in case.

After scaling the ladder, I carefully tease the manhole cover off the ground to allow me access outside the sewers. I replace the cover once I'm out of the drain, careful about my surroundings as I do. Another memorable night, though this one involved a crowbar and a roundhouse kick rather than a thief and a motorcycle. The place now deemed safe, I stop my search for danger and look around for my companion.

Roy is sitting precariously on a second story fire escape, toying with a gun as he watches me from above. I wave to let him know I've spotted him.

He jumps from his perch to land softly in front of me, simultaneously sliding his gun into one of his many holsters.

"Hey show-off," I greet.

"Green is not a good look on you," he replies with an easy smile.

Again, not in _this_ form. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Jealousy, Dani."

He climbs back on the fire escape, me following with a confused frown. "So, what? Jealousy is green? If we're picking colors for emotions, I would've guessed nausea is green."

"Never heard of the green-eyed monster?" At the top, he offers me a hand. As usual, I decline in favor of hefting myself up.

"No, but in this day and age, you could be talking about a literal monster."

"True, but this particular phrase is an idiom. It means an envious person." He and I begin to make our way down the street, jogging along the sides of buildings. After each jump Roy checks to make sure I haven't misstepped, though I never have. Occasionally he'll shoot a net or an arrow at impending crime down below.

"If embarrassment is pink," I suggest, holding out my hand for something to throw when I catch sight of a guy stalking a drag queen. "Then would the pink-eyed monster be an embarrassed person?" Roy sets a concussive disk in my hand that I throw at the guy, which hits him soundly on the head.

"Not bad." Roy briefly swings down to retrieve the disk, cuff the guy and mark the area for the cops. "And no, pink eye is an entirely different thing."

"I know. Is red love or anger?"

"Passion," he responds without hesitation.

"What's fear?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Yellow?"

His mouth twitches. "How would that make sense?"

"I don't know. Something shocking. Purple and gray are too mild. Black is despair, obviously. Red could make sense because blood, but it's already three different emotions."

"Maybe if you stopped adding so many emotions, there'd be enough colors to cover them all."

"Um, there are more than eight emotions." Our conversation pauses again as Arsenal goes street level again to fight several guys ganging up on a homeless person. After he returns, I continue my argument. "There's joy, anger, fear, sadness, love, jealousy, exhaustion, hate, surprise, anticipation, anxiety, euphoria…"

"Yes, there are a lot," Roy jumps in. "Why are we still talking about this?"

"You brought it up."

We leap buildings.

"And you're stalling."

"What makes you say that?"

"I know the difference between your idle, excited and nervous chatter. This is definitely nervous chatter. What's on your mind?"

"Ah, it's… complicated."

"I have two clones, both of which are older than me, and you're the girl clone of a boy." He gestures out to the city around him. "Our lives are anything but simple, so fire away."

I stop on the roof, switching on my watch as I do. "The BatCave was broken into a few nights ago." His face creases around his mask in concern. "The guy stole contingency plans for the entire Justice League, and probably the plans to take down every other known hero as well."

His mouth starts to form a colorful word.

"Now, don't react to anything else I'm going to say," I hurriedly command him when he starts to ask a question. I tap my watch. "The guy we're fighting, his name is Plasmius. And this is going to get super complicated, so… I apologize in advance.

"Plasmius is Phantom's arch nemesis. He wants to rule to world, or whatever the typical bad guy wants. To do that, he absorbed the Omega Sanction, which allows him to see any moment in time. My watch prevents him from seeing _me _in time. Plasmius is going to attack the League. That's inevitable. When it happens, I need you to decline helping the League when they call, because they _will _call."

I start to pace, needing to move. "I don't know how I never saw it before, but the shades we've been dealing with are so obviously on his side. The thefts at STAR labs and everywhere else? They were stealing technology that could potentially create Batman's contingency plans! I mean, I still don't know what they _are_, but I'm _sure _Plasmius has everything to do with them."

"You've gotten sidetracked," Roy points out.

"Right. Not helping the League. Phantom is one of the best weapons against Plasmius, but he's being held back by a weapon Plasmius is holding over him. It's a weapon of _mass _destruction. It's in one of Phantom's thermoses. I need you to take my watch and retrieve the thermos from Plasmius."

"But… you?" I can see Roy struggling to ask me a question that won't tip off our unwelcome observer. To be honest, we can't even be sure he _is_ watching. That's what's so frustrating.

"I can't for two reasons: one, Plasmius will see me coming from a mile away, watch or no watch. I need to be seen so he isn't on guard." There will already be several ghost sensors and shields set up, so as to dissuade Phantom in either form. And if he can't get in there, there's no way I can. But a human just might be able to. "And two, I simply do not have the skill to get in a highly guarded area. There will be locked doors, cameras, bobbytraps… I'm good at getting out of places, not getting in."

Arsenal settles for a simple nod.

"And as for finding it…"

My anxiety in the Cave was not only due to being delayed. I was afraid that the longer I stayed, the more likely it would be that one of the Bats would notice the paper I had curled around my leg underneath my pants. It wasn't too noticeable, but the Bats do happen to have a knack for spotting things that others, like Plasmius, wouldn't.

Now, I slip off my boot and roll up my pant leg, exposing the carefully wrapped paper. Roy gives me the oddest look as I uncurl the paper and pull my pant leg back down. "The Infa-map."

I curl it back into two tight rolls as I continue. "This will lead you to it, but it has limits. It won't be able to get inside a compound shielded against it, but it can get you close. I'm giving you the Map now, though I have to keep the watch on me so Plasmius doesn't get nervous and change up plans. I want to put the map in one of your weapons. Do you have a place that would work?"

Arsenal's slightly overwhelmed expression turns thoughtful for several moments until he pops open one of the compartments in his false arm. "Hungry?" he asks, exposing the open compartment. Inside are four granola bars in just a big enough space to fit the map.

"Seriously?"

"A guy gets hungry," he explains, withdrawing them all. He offers me two, and I take both before slipping the map inside the compartment as he closes it. As soon as my fingers leave the parchment Plasmius can see it, but he probably won't be thinking to look there. If he does, I guess we'll be screwed when the time comes, but I have faith in Plasmius's arrogance.

I palm both granola bars, turning them over in my hands nervously. "Find me when Plasmius attacks. Once I give you the watch, make sure the purple side is facing up and don't switch it back until after Plasmius is defeated. After you get the Thermos, you can't let it leave your possession until either Phantom or I takes it."

He nods once, tearing open one of the granola bars so as to keep up the charade that he was hungry. I do the same, though I can't be seen.

"I promise I'll explain this all to you once we can both talk. I know it's confusing. But if I've covered everything…?"

He doesn't stop me as I switch my watch back.

"Shall we?" he asks, as if nothing had happened. He holds out his granola bar and we tap them together as if toasting.

"Let's."

And target practice begins again, like nothing ever happened.

* * *

It's four days after my night with Roy that the attack begins.

It starts at the WatchTower, bringing down an estimated eight members before the rest of the League are even contacted.

At the same time, small armies of shades led by sentient ghosts attack several of the heroes' cities, including Gotham.

No alarms go off, so I'm unaware of the attack until nearly an hour after it begins. Alfred wakes me up. Nobody else is in the Manor.

Alfred insists that I eat, even though the anticipation and dread sits in the pit of my stomach like lead. I camp out in the BatCave and eat cereal, listening to the conversations of the League over the comms.

Wonder Woman is down. So is John Stewart. The ghosts are possessing them. There are surely more, but none that are mentioned directly over the link. I only have access to the one between the heroes in Gotham and Batman's to the entire Justice League. Luckily, Superman's still responding. It would not bode well to lose him this early. My instincts scream at me to go into the heat of the battle, to use my powers and ghost expertise, but I know it will all be pointless unless I get this watch to Roy. And to do that, I need to know where he is.

A little under twenty minutes later, I hear an exclamation from Dick, whose tracker places him in downtown New Gotham. "Arsenal? What are-not that I'm glad you decided to jump in, but what are you doing in Gotham?"

The Batchair upends when I leap to my feet. Alfred, who's calmly drinking tea to my right, sends me a startled glance. "I don't expect you to understand," I plead, backing away from the computer. "But this isn't like Jason. I have to, I _have _to."

Alfred starts to stand, but I dash off, leaving him behind me. I have no doubt Alfred can lock me inside the Cave, but whatever truth he heard in my desperate plea gives him enough to pause for me to escape. I barely have my jacket or my helmet on when I start the motorcycle, but I launch it forward anyway, struggling them on as I go.

Gotham is in full-on panic mode, if my crowded GPS is any indication, so I stick to the sewers. My adrenaline continues to pound even with the silence of the empty tunnels. I have to reach the area Nightwing and Arsenal were on the screen before they move. I have to get the watch to Roy.

The next moment I'm fully aware of is being in the place the GPS last spotted them. I'm not sure if I went into hyperfocus or what, but whatever it was, I'm at my destination, and that's good enough for me.

Unfortunately, neither of my targets are.

I scale the nearest fire escape, searching for superheroes amid all the chaos. My panic increases with every passing second until I'm suddenly careening in the air. It happened that fast. One second I'm standing, the next I'm in the air. Fortunately, it's in the arms of one of the people I'm searching for.

"Where's Arsenal?" I shout over the wind.

Dick is focused on the ghost that had snuck up behind me-some medieval Crusader with a wicked sword. After Dick dispels it with a shot from what looks like a Fenton WristRay, he answers me. "Two streets down! What are you doing here?"

"I needed to make sure you guys were alright!" Dick grapples us to another building, simultaneously making a radio call to Arsenal.

"That's it?"

"Of course! Remember Jason?" I lower my voice now that we can hear each other better. "Arsenal doesn't have many ghost weapons, anyway. I brought my own."

Dick nods, a knowing look creased into the lines of his face. He knows I'm lying. He doesn't know why, but he knows who I am and that I've been planning for this. Or maybe he just trusts me. His expression changes when someone talks to him over his comm. His finger goes to his ear and his frown deepens.

Arsenal joins us moments later.

"Good, you're here," Dick states. "Babs needs help in Burnside."

And just like that, he's gone. This day seems to be stuck in triple fast forward, and I'm struggling to keep up. "Ecto-guns," I tell Arsenal in greeting, shoving two in his hands.

"We need to get off this roof," Arsenal replies as a thank you, shoving both into his belt. "There are going to be more ghosts here soon. Batman radioed everyone to get to the outskirts of Gotham so the whole League can team up."

"You're not going, though?"

"No. I've got to get back to Star. The League can handle the world, but someone needs to handle my city. Both Green Lantern and Black Canary are down."

"Okay." I pause awkwardly, unsure of how to pass the watch along. Do I use a handshake, a hug? Any contact can pass along the watch. I know how to do these things discreetly. But which is the least suspicious?

Roy seems to catch on to my pause and steps forward, placing both hands-one real, one fake-on my shoulders. "Now that the world's ending, it seems like a good time to do this."

I lean in for what looked to be a hug, but is actually a kiss. The gesture startles me completely, and my hands come up in surprise. Roy deepens the kiss and moves his hands down my arms, forcing me to reposition them. As our right hands pass each other, his going down to my waist and mine going around his neck, I feel the watch slide past my wrist and end up in his hand.

The kiss is more of a makeout session, as Roy uses it to not only get the watch, but also to transfer it into his weaponized prosthesis. I've never kissed anyone before. I've never even thought about it. Surprisingly though, it comes naturally enough that I can focus on getting the watch secured. As soon as it is, I turn my attention to the actual act of kissing, just as he pulls away.

"Been meaning to do that since the night we met," Roy tells me.

I can't conjure up anything coherent in response before he leaves the building, swinging in the opposite direction Dick went.

I blink again.

"Holy- I-" I shake my head and clear my throat. "I don't have to say anything, because I'm alone. Anyway… End of the world…" After (mostly) getting the kiss out of my head, I refocus on the world-ending dilemma that I can now try to help with.

I scramble down the fire escape and start running towards the battle sounds that are growing in the distance. Maybe I can go ghost and join the fight. No one has to know that I'm half ghost. I can be a ghost copycatting Phantom. Besides, Plasmius will be defeated after this anyway so everyone can know.

Sticking to the alleyways, I avoid people and continue towards the fight. There are flashes of light and enormous crashes coming from the general area, and since none of the Bats can make either of those, I'm guessing some of the League members have arrived.

Three blocks before I reach my destination, I'm violently slammed into the wall and pinned by my throat. This is another moment when my world changes drastically in less than a second, leaving my mind desperately scrambling to catch up.

"Hello, my dear," Plasmius coos in my ear. I struggle against him before phasing out of his grip. He floats in front of me and we face off. My hands start glowing, and I'm fairly certain my eyes are too. "Oh, please, I'm not here to fight. Well, I am, but there won't be one."

With a wicked smile, he withdraws the Plasmius Maximus.

But instead of having two prongs, like the one before, this contraption is shaped like a blade.

Dread fills me. "No!"

It's not me that shouts.

Before I can react, Vlad has advanced. He moves so quickly it's a blur.

My whole world spins around me as I'm thrown into the air, and then blacks out for a moment when I hit the pavement and roll. I stop rolling when I slam into the brick wall of the alley, and I lay there for a second, dazed.

The next clear image I see is Vlad's disappointed face. "That isn't quite what I had in mind, but it will work all the same." After he says that, I'm fairly certain he leaves.

I lie there for a moment, breathing hard. Did I get stabbed? My hands search my abdomen for a wound, but I don't find anything.

Pulling myself shakily into a sitting position, I try to force my equilibrium to return.

Once I lay eyes on what's in front of me, it takes me four full seconds to comprehend what is in front of me.

When I do, my whole world tilts again.

"No."

I scramble forward, blood soaking through the knees of my pants. His black hair dips inside the blood pooling around his prone form, and I briefly brush my fingers against it, desperate for the hair to change color.

"No."

My hands find the wound in the abdomen, trying to stop the blood flow around the protruding knife. Plasmius must've… He must've been satisfied with just killing… _Satisfied_...

"No, no no no nono NO!" My scream bounces off the two walls of the ally. My vision is blurring but I can't feel the tears on my cheeks. "This can't-"

"Is-I-" Blood wells up from his mouth, and I feel him struggling for air. His teeth are stained red. Desperately, he struggles to sputter something out. "N-not… It's okay… okay…"

His blue eyes try to focus on me but can't. They see something distant and focus on it until the light has faded. It happens right in front of me. I'm right here, and it happens _any_way... Nonono

The blood stops running underneath my hands. I can't feel the heart beating. I can't…

Hysteria screams through me and I clutch the body in front of me. Dead. Dead never meant this before. He was dead when he entered the ally but now he's really dead. Dead dead dead. No more coming back, no more being my brother.

I wouldn't have believed it… But here I am, holding his body. He's as dead as he was when he was a ghost, but he's human. He's human and dead. Should be me, human and dead...

My cries echo off the walls once more, louder than I would've thought possible, but so so far away.

_Danny..._

Hysterical as I am, seconds seem to last an eternity as I struggle to breathe around the force of my sobs. Half-formed questions and pleas circle through my head, only adding weight to my emotional breakdown. I don't know how to _exist_ in this kind of pain. How... How did Bruce and Dick and Tim and Jason do this? How do you do this?

Without conscious thought, I find myself with my feet on the ground. Actually, they're a few inches off the ground. My grief has warped into something that feels like all-consuming rage, tastes like despair and rocks me with waves of hysteria.

I tilt my head back and shriek. "_PLASMIUS_!"

* * *

**Hehehehehhehehe**

**I'm sorry I know you guys are going to kill me but I'm not sorry... I've had this planned out since chapter 18. Also, yes, the whole fight between the Justice League is glossed over in this chapter but I did that on purpose. Dani isn't in that fight, so I'm going to write it out in Dick's POV. I haven't started that chapter yet, so we'll see when I get it out. But hey! This is only like my third cliffhanger, and a writer is entitled to infinite of those. **

**I promise a happy/satisfactory ending! Don't kill me like I did Danny!**

**;);););):)**


	29. Chapter 29

I'm in Chinatown with Barbara when Batman sends the call to us both: invasion on New and Old Gotham. Like a high stakes dodgeball game, Batman picks out the teams for the counterattack: Damian, Barbara, Jason and I are handling Old Gotham while Bruce, Tim, Stephanie, and Kate handle New.

Cassandra, on assignment in China, will likely not make it on time to help us. Selina is probably on Bruce's team, though he refuses to put her on the "official" Bat-Fam list.

Babs and I are changed within minutes, as we'd been anticipating this attack for the last week. Luckily, Batman's contingency of himself no longer worked, as both Ra's al Guhl and Bane had exploited his dead parents as weaknesses.

Apparently, Plasmius's initial attack plan is to keep all Bats isolated to Gotham, leaving the rest of the League on their own. Every Bat has ghost weaponry on their persons at all time, but the League only has an armory that isn't always accessible.

Keeping Batman out of the fight. That's how the Green Lantern Corp would take down the League.

Smart.

Babs rattles off some of the theory behind this particular strategy as we ride to our destination, and I appreciate the extra information. Knowledge is power, after all.

"That's… kind of a problem," Barbara says when we reach the scene of the invasion. Damian is there, a blur of sword slashes and cape, but he's about to be overwhelmed. Ghosts are stretched out as far as we can see, a green and blue tinged mass so numerous it's a wonder they stayed together at all. Babs and I don't waste another second; we immediately pull out our own ghost weapons and help Damian.

"They dissolve," Damian shouts out, adjusting the katanas in his grip. "Killing blows cause them to dissipate."

"That's if we hit them while they're tangible," Barbara replies, bringing her knee up for a devastating blow to one of the police-dressed ghosts in front of her. After it connects with his knee she unfurls her leg into a kick, sending the ghost into the group behind it.

"They're just here for us," I realize, flipping my newly fixed escrima sticks around in my hands. "They aren't even trying to attack the city around us."

"Good news for us," Barbara grunts, swinging her leg around for another kick. I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or serious.

My legs are pulled down into the cement, eliciting a yelp of surprise from me. Before I can sink any further, Damian curls his hands around my upper arm and judo flips me over his back. "How did you-"

"You weren't tangible yet," Damian grunts, tossing my weight off his back and unsheathing his swords again. I didn't notice before today that they glow a dim green, making them a ghost weapon. Dani had been preparing us for this war long before Plasmius's attack. I switch my belt on to repel the ghosts before jumping in after my junior partner.

Without the need to pull my punches, I whip through dozens of ghosts in a minute, side by side with my closest friends. Of course, it's several hundred against three, so we're inevitably overwhelmed.

The ghosts dogpile on top of me, causing me to lose sight of Babs and Damian. I grunt under their combined weight, struggling to escape. My belt is powerful, but the sheer weight of the ghosts does it in.

Before they can suffocate me, a huge green blast barrels through the pile, leaving several holes to escape from. It takes me seconds to clear the falling pile.

Jason tilts the bazooka back over his shoulder. "I love Fenton Tech!" he shouts, withdrawing two ecto-guns and picking off several ghosts in the front lines. After clearing us another perimeter, he hands all of us a wristband that, as he explains, doubles as a ghost ray.

"And now they split up!" Barbara groans, and I look up to confirm her statement. She's right; they're splitting up in four separate directions. "One's headed to Burnside!" Without further explanation, she darts off in that direction.

"We're honestly splitting up?" Jason scoffs, aiming another bazooka shot at a lingering group. "Doing exactly what they want us to do?"

"When you come up with a better plan, feel free to let me know!"

I use that as a farewell, grappling off towards another group as I simultaneously switch on my comm. While I'm not actively listening to the conversation from my family, I let it be a background chatter as I pick off parts of my ghost group.

Suddenly I'm blasted back by a wave of energy, sending me tumbling to a rooftop. The energy forms a net that entraps me, but I quickly slash through it with my escrima sticks. Before me is an apparition shaped like a robot, but dressed like 1980. "Who are you supposed to be?"

"I am Skulker, the Ghost Zone's Greatest Hunter!"

Of course. "And you're hunting me… Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He seems almost disappointed that I don't know. "You're the world's greatest acrobat."

"Ah, that's true." I dust off my uniform. "But wouldn't you rather hunt the world's greatest detective? Or world's greatest hacker? Both are in this city. What about all the different aliens? Kryptionian, Martian, Thanagarian?"

"You're telling me. But Plasmius sends us where we're needed, I guess. Now, shall we?"

Amusement sparks under my adrenaline. A friendly chat before a fight is rare in this line of work. "If we must."

I wonder if I can keep him talking, but find I need to focus more on the several missiles headed my direction. Even with my agility, it's nearly impossible to dodge them all. Still, I manage.

Unfortunately, I miss the blast of energy from his bazooka. Saved and doomed by a bazooka in the same hour. Annoying.

Skulker advances with a high-speed saw blade.

I chuckle despite the mortal danger. "Really?"

"It came with the suit," he explains before sweeping his arm down. I move to dodge, but it still would've clipped my leg if Skulker wasn't violently sucked up into a thermos.

"Arsenal? What are-not that I'm glad you decided to jump in, but what are you doing in Gotham?"

Arsenal clips the thermos back onto his belt, simultaneously offering me a hand up. I accept, making sure to blast a wide ray of energy from the wrist ray to keep the ghosts off our back. "Isn't it obvious? I'm helping."

"What about Star?"

"I'll go back soon, chill."

We fight in silence for a moment, moving our position to the next block over. Over my comm, Batman orders us to finish up our fights (as if it's just that easy) or lead the ghosts to the mainland. He briefly explains that he's having the League converge on Gotham to get them all back together, and so that he can insert himself into the fight.

Instead of getting to the fight, he's bringing it to him. Genius, though I expected nothing less. "Did you get that?" I ask Roy after leaping past him to take out a half-tangible ghost trying to sneak around his back.

"Yep. But I _do_ have to get back to Star."

"Seriously? You're already here!"

He just grunts and blasts the ghosts around us. Some go intangible to avoid his attack, but some are caught with the full brunt of his energy's power. It's not an ecto-ray, but it works for those it hits.

I leap off the building to take out a couple stragglers. Without Skulker, some of the ghosts are losing interest. They're still bound to wreak havoc, but they're no longer concerned with overwhelming us.

Arsenal readies his thermos once more, but I interrupt him. "Leave it for the real ghosts," I advise. "These shades will fill it up too quickly and they'll just dissolve inside."

He nods, replacing the thermos on his weapon's belt. I wonder briefly where he got the thermos in the first place. They are apparently very hard to come by. "I got these. Get those."

I follow his meaning to find a small group of about half a dozen floating off in different directions. After dissolving half of them, I give myself a short moment to catch my breath. There likely won't be another chance until this fight is over, so I hurriedly gulp down some water and energy bars as I hunt down two more of the ghosts, who terrorize some of the panicking people on the streets.

I catch sight of the final one rising up behind a figure standing on the edge of the building I'd almost been hack-sawed on a little while ago. Without hesitating, I grapple to a taller building beside it and swing towards the two. Moments before I collide with the figure, I recognize her as Dani, wearing dark clothes and a motorcycle jacket.

I don't even ask; I simply aim at the ghost that had been sneaking up on Dani as we tumble through the air.

"Where's Arsenal?" she shouts to me.

I don't answer until I've dispelled the ghost. "Two streets down! What are you doing here?"

"I needed to make sure you guys were alright!"

Oh, really? How'd you know Arsenal was here? Why would you dart down here to make sure we were alright but not join in any of the fights? I grapple to the building, taking my cynical questions with me. Still, I radio Arsenal and tell him to rendezvous at my position.

"That's it?" I ask as we land on a roof a couple of buildings away.

"Of course! Remember Jason?" Her tone is too defensive, too hackled. Her mind is elsewhere. I recognize the look in her eyes; Tim has the same one when he's enacting a plan. Arsenal wasn't here when the ghosts attacked, otherwise he would've joined us immediately instead of popping in an hour later. Dani came running the minute I acknowledged him on the comms. They have a plan. "Arsenal doesn't have many ghost weapons, anyway. I brought my own."

I give her a simple nod. "Nightwing!" comes Barbara's voice over my radio. "The ghosts have possessed some of the people on the streets! They're all fighting me, but I can't hurt them! They're innocents!"

Arsenal joins us. "Good, you're here," I shout to him in a rush. "Babs needs help in Burnside." After I let them know where I'm going, I grapple away. Glancing back at Dani, I see her shake her head in adjustment. "Stay safe," I mutter.

Babs wasn't kidding. A mass of people are advancing on her, all with glowing green eyes. They aren't quite accustomed to their human bodies, so they're staggering towards her like zombies, but there's still four or five dozen of them and only one of her.

I jump in. "I shoulda taken the thermos," I mutter, flipping my escrima sticks in my hands. With a horizontal twist, I throw one into another, sending them both tumbling to the ground. I ready a blow that will knock another unconscious, but Batgirl's shout stops me.

"These people don't have health insurance, Nightwing! If you hurt them, they can't get treated without going into even more debt."

Frustration edges up on me. "But they're coming too quickly to bind, and even if they weren't we don't have nearly enough cuffs on us."

"I don't care. We make do."

She cuffs two homeless guys around a nearby gate, leaving them both trapped. I do the same, but I only carry three pairs of cuffs on me. I have twenty or so zipties, but Batgirl only has six, leaving at least twenty five without bonds. Not to mention the fact that we can't just leave them here without getting the ghosts out. If Babs is worried about physical health bills, I'm willing to bet she won't condone the extensive mental health bills that will follow an extensive possession.

"Your rays," comes a voice from behind me. A green blast comes from the same direction, smacking into the guy in front of me and pushing out a ghost. The ghost looks down at the hole in its chest before collapsing into a pile of ectoplasm. The human stumbles into a wall, holding their head.

I turn towards Phantom, whose hands are shimmering a radioactive green. There's a look in his eyes that gives me pause: a hardened resolve. The sparkle of mischief that usually twinkles in his eyes is gone, leaving his eyes a hard emerald green. "They don't harm humans, so it'll push the ghost harmlessly out."

"Why aren't you with the League?" I call out to him as he and Barbara make quick work pushing out and destroying the ghosts.

"On my way now. I've been trying to round up the heroes so they can help."

Batgirl sheathes a pair of the cuffs she'd used on a pair of women earlier. "Well, we're on our way now too, I guess."

"See you there." His smile reaches his eyes in the saddest way. He looks almost… wistful. Something's happening, something he's resigned himself to. "I've got one more stop."

"We can come with you."

Phantom doesn't hear Babs suggestion. He hesitates for a moment, briefly glancing over us, before turning invisible.

"Phantom," I bark. He's our best weapon, our biggest player. And, of course, he's also Danny Fenton, who is our biggest supplier of ghost weaponry. He's invaluable.

"Call me Danny," comes the reply.

Batgirl looks to me in surprise. I simply stare at where the voice came from, certain he's gone but confused nonetheless. To my understanding, this is _the_ secret. Dani had gone to incredible lengths to keep it hidden, and then to reveal it in the most discreet way possible. So… what? Is it not important anymore?

"Who's-"

I silence Babs with a look. She closes her mouth, frowning more deeply now. "Not now," I tell her. If Danny's using his time watch, he doesn't want us to repeat anything. Even if he wasn't using it, now actually _isn't _the time.

"Then let's go," she says impatiently, leaning on one of her legs and crossing her arms.

"After you."

She smirks.

* * *

The battle field isn't at all what I expected. Instead of masses of ghosts, there are people. Only a few ghosts dot the area, easily outnumbered by the living ten to one. Dread fills me as I spot the actual fight. I'd heard of the Leaguers that had fallen, but it hadn't registered that by "fallen", they meant "turned".

I spot Wonder Woman trading high speed, devastating blows with Superman. As I watch, I notice that not only is she using her regular tricks but the ghost inside her also uses his own powers. "Crap," Batgirl mutters.

Further in the fight I see Green Arrow roundhouse kick Huntress into unconsciousness. Immediately, one of the ghosts idly floating around swoops down and enters her body. The next instant Huntress stands and joins the fight on the wrong side.

"Contingency plans weren't used to take them down," I say to myself, realizing as I go. "They were used to weaken them emotionally. Phantom said willpower counteracts an imposing spirit, but if they used fear gas on the Lanterns, poison on Wonder Woman..."

"If you want to talk, you gotta fight," Batgirl shouts to me. I nod and hurry in to help Tim, who's being teamed up on by both Beast Boy and Black Canary. "Use ecto-rays to push the ghosts out of their bodies!" She says the last sentence into her comm unit.

"Where is Phantom?" Superman grunts into his own earpiece.

Batgirl and I are both silent on the comms. We're still so unsure of what he was doing. I flip backwards to avoid getting trampled by a rhino only to get punched in the solar plexus by Black Canary. Though my kidney screams at me, I counter her attack and flip her onto her stomach, twisting her arm behind her back. With a beam of my wrist ray, the ghost inside her is shoved out and destroyed.

I aim a shot at Beast Boy but he turns into something smaller than my mask lens can pinpoint. Black Canary slowly climbs to her feet, and I fight to give her the room to regain her senses. "Can you fight?"

She holds her head in her hand, trying to readjust to her new surroundings. I've never been possessed, personally, but from her reaction, I'm guessing it scrambles your mind a little bit. "Yes," she responds at last. "But I don't have many weapons with me."

"Take this one." I undo the strap of the wrist ray and push it into her hand. "Button to shoot. You can push out possessing ghosts with the ray. I've got my sticks, so I'll be fine."

Neither of us wait for a reply.

The League falls fast. At last count, we'd lost everyone except for the Flashes, Wondergirl, Superman and the Bat family. Of course, not all the heroes are here. I have yet to see Starfire, Donna, Aquaman or Martian Manhunter. And then there are the Bats, all with utility belts that make us immune to overshadowing.

All those not possessed create a center in the storm, staying to fight together instead of allowing themselves to get picked off one by one. We manage to free Wonder Woman, though she is taken by another, more sentient ghost before she even wakes up. The turned League is talented in avoiding the rays, and often stay invisible so we can't aim. It's all we can do to keep our circle safe. So fast… This all happened so fast.

We kept weapons on us, obviously. Batman told everyone else to as well. He placed another, bigger order to FentonWorks, intending to supply the entire League. But Danny is only one inventor, and he hadn't finished the order yet. Which I'm sure was the point. Plasmius attacked when we were the least prepared. He probably stole many of the ghost weapons before he attacked.

Speak of the actual devil…

"Let's see, what do we have here? One, three, eight… Fourteen of you left? My, that must be inconvenient for you." There's no answer, just four different beams aimed at him at once. "Shall I break up this little reunion? Let's see how resilient heroes _really_ are."

Where has he… "Where's Phantom?" I demand, knowing he'll answer.

Vlad's smile grows, a huge ball of energy expanding in his hand. Everyone gets ready to move. "Poor thing didn't feel well-"

He throws the energy like dunking a basketball: straight in the center of our circle. Everyone who can't take that standing hits the deck, but the explosion doesn't come. Impossibly, a green shield has materialized around us, giving us time enough to stand and catch another breath.

The shield falls, revealing Phantom… but not. I know she is Dani, though my eyes don't see it straight away. Her hair is white, whipping around like a tornado is whirling around her. The glow of her aura is far more intense than anything I've ever seen off of Phantom. Green light sparks around her, not like electricity, but like flashes of intense ectoplasm.

Hands flashing green, she lifts them in front of her, at Plasmius. He looks amused, tilting his head with a half smile. "You-" Even her voice carries a different intonation. It's almost resonating, though that might be the area we're in. I daresay if I had met this ghost before Dani had told me, I don't think I'd've made the connection for a while.

Plasmius inclines his head, as if he didn't hear her. "What was that, dear?"

"Why?"

It's a whisper I struggle to hear.

The world seems to have stopped to accommodate for this impromptu confrontation. Even the League, who are never ones to allow an advantageous moment go, are holding their breath, waiting for the news we all suspect, dread.

"I had to kill one of you," Plasmius explains, as if it's obvious. "Of course, I'd have preferred it be you, but… That's the way butter biscuits crumble, I suppose."

Dani shakes violently once, before lifting her head to Plasmius. I can't see her eyes, but I have no doubt they're shining brighter than I've ever seen Phantom's. Plasmius flicks his hand in her direction, but with a scream of rage, Dani's hands come up and a _torrent _of energy pours from her outstretched fingers. It completely engulfs not only his minor attack but also his entire person, blowing him back and several feet into the ground.

She turns back to us. Her face is shining in tears, but there's no indication she feels them. "_That_," she spits, "Is mine. Blast the & #$ing Leaguers and retreat with as many as you can get."

Her body arcs off in the direction she had thrown Plasmius.

"The sentient ghosts," I offer before the League faces the opponents again. They seemed to be waking up, as if Plasmius's presence messed with their orders. "Are controlling the shades. Those are the ones that talk. Take down those and several dozen will follow."

"The girl Phantom had the right idea," Flash shrugs, picking up a ray and dashing off with it.

Picking out the sentient ghosts is not as hard as I would have thought. Once we begin looking for them, it's obvious. Over the noise and confusion, we hadn't recognized that some of the ghosts were speaking in coherent sentences. Wonder Woman in particular seems to be possessed by some type of girl teenager.

I end up drawing the short stick and find myself fighting her. She's not as fast as Superman, making her devastating punches possible to avoid. Her flight and bracelets, however, pose bigger problems. I try to throw an escrima stick, but she knocks it away easily.

"So, what's your story?" I ask her when she swoops down to bash my skull in. I dance away with a couple somersaults and a flip.

"I have a boyfriend," she tells me bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's okay, I have a… well, I don't know what we are."

"I know the feeling," she responds, tossing Wonder Woman's long black hair over her shoulder. "Johnny and I, it took us _forever_ to define the relationship, even _after_ we died."

"But now you guys have it figured out?"

"Ugh, I wish. Relationships are just like that, I guess. Lots of problems."

"Love is worth the effort, isn't it?"

"Oh, totally. Do you love yours?"

"Definitely. See that girl?" I point Babs out where she's making Ollie eat dirt as she focuses the ray on her wrist.

"Red hair?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, cute!"

"Where's yours?"

Her face scrunches up in concentration, searching the crowd around her. When she spots him, her expression brightens. "Right over there, in the green guy."

I follow her gaze and see Hal Jordan ramming a motorcycle construction into Catwoman, who'd apparently shown up to fight. "Motorcycle guy?"

She scoffs. "Only thing he knows how to make."

"Why are you two wrapped up in this?"

She barely even notices the change in topic. "Ugh, Plasmius said he'd let us keep roaming the human realm at will if we did. I'd rather stay in the Ghost Zone, honestly, but compromises, I guess."

"I get it, but why wouldn't you be allowed to come to the human realm if Plasmius loses?"

She sighs in annoyance. "Phantom's a killjoy."

My heart revolts as I point out, "Isn't he gone?"

"What?" She looks genuinely shocked. "What do you mean?"

"Plasmius killed him, last I heard."

"He _did_?!" Diana's hair flairs up around her, coated in green energy, and her eyes flash red. Moments later, the ghost inside composes herself.

"I wouldn't think you would be to broken up about it." Stay casual. Don't turn this ghost against you. She's more like a teenager than I care to admit; she must've died young. Like Phantom, since Danny was only… eighteen.

My fist tightens.

The ghost's frown deepens. "He's a goody-two shoes, but I mean… I _dated_ him. I… He…" She shakes her head. "He's a good guy. Gives ghosts a better name. Never hurts anyone… And that goth chick. They're dating. Half the Ghost Zone is betting on whether they'll end up together or not…" She tilts her head, a genuine sadness washing over Diana's face. "I guess I lose."

Wonder Woman glows green, and a teenage girl in a stylish red jacket floats up from her. Diana collapses on her hands and knees, breathing unsteadily. I lock eyes with the ghost. She nods to me before floating off towards Green Lantern. I trail after her.

"Come on, Johnny. We're leaving."

Green Lantern glances at her, almost dismissive, but catching her earnest stare. Then he shrugs. "Whatever."

Moments later, he releases Green Lantern. Together, the two ghosts fly off from the fight. I don't know why, but that simple action drives the fact that Phantom is _gone_ straight through me. Phantom's _enemies _are sad that he's gone.

Poor Dani.

I turn back to find her, spotting her and Plasmius trading blows. He anticipates her moves as she makes them, but she's so fast-paced and erratic she manages to keep up with his premonition. He's studying the future as he fights her, making it difficult to both, I'd imagine.

And more than that, Dani is using weapons.

Her ectoplasm shapes in her hands to multiple different items. One moment it's a giant hammer such as the one Harley Quinn uses, and the next it morphs into twin katana swords. Plasmius knocks them away as they come, but she just keeps making them. She's fighting with more anger than I'd ever seen from her. Even after Vlad Master's attack, she wasn't nearly this emotional. It was like something inside her had… snapped.

Still, as I watch, Plasmius lands increasingly more powerful blows. Dani is faltering. Too untrained in her powers, too emotional. Despite her roaring passion, Plasmius is anticipating most of her moves and counter attacking in ways that she can't keep up with. She's losing.

I make my way towards her but am sidetracked by another Green Lantern's giant fist construction. I work to disentangle myself from a crowd of people trying to swallow me. By the time I'm free, several minutes later, Dani has lost her fight, and Plasmius has struck her down into the ground. He readies another blow.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," shouts a voice to my right. I search for the speaker and find Arsenal, who dismounts his motorcycle and aims an ecto gun right at Plasmius.

"Honestly, child. Do you think you could hit me?" His smug look remains until his brow creases in confusion. "I can't-"

"Use your freaky time powers to see what I'll do? No."

"I will still avoid it," Plasmius comments off-handedly. "You can't win."

"Can't I?" Arsenal unclips the thermos from his belt. This one has a strange imprint of a face stamped on it, though I'm too far away to make out much more than the eyes and mouth. "Recognize this?"

Panic flits across his face. "But it's still-"

"I switched 'em."

Plasmius slowly regains composure. He eyes the thermos as if he might make a grab for it, but Arsenal reclips it on his belt, which I now realize must be ghost proof. "You can't possibly think that will defeat me. He was merely a self-destruct button if all failed. I doubt the heroes will do the same as me."

"Destroy the world? Not so much. But this was your secret weapon. And you don't have it anymore."

Plasmius observes the scene around him. Over two-thirds of the League has been reclaimed, leaving only a few of the powerhouses under ghostly influence. After the heroes are ours again, the innocents will soon follow. "I see."

"You've lost."

This comes from Wonder Woman, who withdraws her lasso and points it at him.

He sneers at her. "Of course I haven't. Your biggest weapon against me is gone, not to mention the supplier of your lesser weapons is as well. Look at all these people in my thrall! No, no, my dear. It is only just beginning."

Before our eyes, Plasmius splits into two, then four, then eight, and so on until there are more of him than people surrounding us. I flick on my comm as I dash to Wonder Woman. "Get to someone who has a belt or get ready to fight for your body!" I grab Wonder Woman's waist from the back, forbidding Plasmius duplicates from possessing either of us. They part around us like water.

It's total confusion for several minutes until all the duplicates are gone, taking all the possessed with him. I look around at the League and the few dozen innocents, taking account for those missing. Superman is among them.

"Did we win," Tim asks seriously, walking up to where Dani had fallen, "or lose?"

I'm the only one who knows this secret. I climb down into the crater Dani had been blasted into, where her ghost form dimly shimmers as she fights for consciousness. I pick her up, one arm beneath her knees and the other under her upper back.

Before all our eyes, Dani relinquishes her ghost form in my arms, two bright rings traveling along her body and replacing her human self. "Flash," I command quietly. "There's a body somewhere in this city. He'll look like her."

I say no more, and everyone else follows suit. Flash disappears for a little over a minute, where the League picks themselves up and tends to the people. My family accompanies me as we start to walk towards the nearest Zeta tube. They ask no questions; I doubt they even suspect I know the answers.

Flash returns, holding the broken form of Daniel Fenton, who is very, very dead.

"We lost," I say to no one in particular.

* * *

**I didn't completely edit this one, because I was too excited to get it out. Your reactions flattered me, in a weird sort of way. I know you all are angry! But I'm not sorry :p It's essential to the plot. Without Danny dead, Dani... Oops, almost revealed myself there (My Generation X self is desperately wishing for an emoji keyboard right about now, so I can insert a bunch of devil emojis)**

**Don't hate me! I promise it'll turn out okay. Mostly. **

**;p**


	30. Chapter 30

Ha you thought I was updating but you were wrong

Mwahahaha


	31. Chapter 31

Waking up is more painful than my "birth".

Every moment that I'm aware I remember Danny's death; I'm not allowed any waking moment of confusion. I'm not spared the ache that pulses in every nerve of my body. I get zero relief.

My guess is that the ache comes from my core. I used a muscle I hadn't stretched in far too long…

But I can't care about it now. I can't care about anything now. I'm here, and Danny's not. I didn't defeat Vlad, didn't avenge Danny's death. If I were the one who had died, Danny would have avenged my death. He wouldn't have rested until he had. All I did was land a few blows and then fall unconscious.

Still not sure how I survived.

I wake up with my arm covered in gauze, my head wrapped in bandages, and a tight wrap around my torso. Seems I didn't have enough energy to heal myself after the fight.

"Hey," prompts Jason softly from my bedside.

"Did we win?"

"... Yes. But he got away. With some of the members of the League."

I bury my face in my hands, despite the protest of all my injuries. "So we didn't win."

"Not really, no."

My heart cries out, and for one terrifying moment, I seriously consider ripping it out of my chest with my intangibility. Jason is immediately on the bed, crushing me into his embrace. I cling to him, unable to breathe around the pain, needing to feel safe even if there's nothing left to protect anymore.

Jason smoothes my hair, keeping me tight to his chest so my body's immune system suppresses and refuses to let me panic. I breathe quietly and count the breaths, feeling my lungs expand just so I can focus on something. "Has anyone called Sam?" I ask, so soft I barely hear myself.

"We weren't sure who to call first," he mumbles, his face still pressed into the top of my head. "I'll let Dick know."

I struggle to get out of Jason's embrace, but he refuses to let me go. Everytime I remember the reality that _Sam_ is coming, that _Danny_ is _dead_, my panic starts again and I need to leave his arms. But he doesn't let me out, continuing to hold me as I'm sure he wanted someone to hold him when his mom died.

"I can't exist," I breathe out after a particularly panicked struggle.

"One second at a time," he tells me, in a soft, knowing voice. "Just take it one second at a time."

I start to cry, then, but it feels good. When all of my tears are gone, I feel like I can breathe again. They washed away the panic, leaving nothing but a chasm of despair that threatens to swallow me up. At least I'm composed now.

When I move out of Jason's grasp, he lets me go. I stand on my feet, feel the weight of the world tilting off its axis, before I walk steadily to a bed covered in a white sheet. I already know who it is, but when I pull off the cover, it pulls the rug out from underneath me anyway.

Danny looks peaceful. His lips are curved up, almost like he smiled as he died. I can't remember now if he had. I wish I could. I was in such a panic.

But he was always so pale. His breath was so shallow. Right now… he could be asleep.

Someone had replaced what he was wearing, and now he wears a plain white tee and jeans. I place my hands where I'd seen the knife last and feel the hole beneath the shirt.

"With-an-i…"

"She's here, isn't she?"

I sob once before composing myself. Whatever I felt for Danny, this is _Sam_. She'll feel more of this than I ever will.

To her credit, she comes in strong. I see her readjust herself when I look up from my post by his side, see her struggle to stay upright. The entire League, minus those who had been taken by Plasmius, follows after her, which they must think of as a comfort. Sam stumbles halfway through, catching herself on an empty bed and refusing Dick's hand to help her up.

She puts a hand on her chest and breathes.

And she finishes the stride to Danny.

I see the world shatter in her eyes before she closes them, breathing again to stave off the tears. "You idiot," she laughs, her breath catching on the sound. "You didn't… Didn't even give me the chance to say yes." She leans forward and brushes her lips against Danny's, tears catching against her eyelashes and brushing against his cheek. "You… you know I would've said yes, right?"

My knees crumble, but Jason sets me back on my feet, and I stand on them as steady as I can. He… he asked… Sam to marry him…

Should have been me…

Me, me, me.

"Did he finish the weapons?" Batman asks. My breath catches when I hear his question. Yes, the world is ending, but _our_ world has ended. A little sensitivity would be nice, you know? I shift my footing and try to stifle my rising anger.

The need to crush Batman is so strong Jason needs to put a hand on my shoulder. "Are you kidding me?" he seethes.

"Plasmius is still out there, possessing innocents and people with ungodly powers. We have less than a dozen weapons to fight him with. We've all lost people. Phantom… Daniel Fenton... is harder to lose than most. But unless we want more to die, _innocents_…"

"I get it," Sam interrupts. Without taking her eyes off of Danny, she fishes out her phone and throws it carelessly in the Dark Knight's direction. "Call Tucker. He's our… _my_-"

Her words break and she's silent so long I think she won't be going on.

Eventually, she does. "Other friend. Don't tell him yet… Just say Danny's down. He won't… won't _cope_ fast enough…"

Batman handles the phone and nods at her words. "Is there-"

"Batman, please," Sam begs, leaning her head down on Danny's chest. "This isn't just my _boyfriend._ He's my best friend. He's the _only_ person who has _ever_ understood me. That's all I've ever needed: to be understood. And he _loved_ me, too. And he wasn't just my past. He was my entire future. Anything could've happened, _anything else_... because I had him. Can I just… _Please_."

Batman nods. He puts the phone in his belt and walks up to the foot of Phantom's bed. The League, in silence, does the same. This is it- the end of Danny. Surrounded by heroes, Sam by his side, at the cost of saving his _clone's_ life. I'm sure he wouldn't have it any other way. And I would've had it every other way. I threaten to tumble to the ground again at Sam's soft sob.

The med-bay doors slide open. "Stop the funeral!"

And who else but Danny flies through the opening, a time medallion around his neck and arms outstretched.

My mouth moves, but my voice doesn't seem to be working. I'm not the only one.

"I can explain," he rushes, floating in full view of the entire room. I nearly faint; there's been too much turmoil and I don't know what to do with my emotions anymore.

I settle for just taking him in, but I soon return to Sam for her reaction.

She slowly picks herself off of… whoever it is who's dead, and wipes the tears from her eyes. At a quick walk, she stalks towards Danny, whose smile grows the closer she gets. She goes right up to him, and without breaking stride, punches him square in the jaw. The entire room gasps, heroes or not.

Danny, who isn't restrained by gravity, goes flying. If he didn't have supernatural stamina, I'm sure he would've been knocked unconscious. After a moment of daze, he gently floats off the ground, rubbing his jaw and groaning. "What was-"

Sam grabs him this time, pulling him flush against her so she can kiss him full on the mouth. He flounders for a moment, trying to decide if he should embrace her or ready for another attack.

Before he can fully decide, Sam shoves him off her.

Danny retreats, hands up in surrender. "Geez, Sam! Make up your mind!"

"Only when you make up yours," she bites back, folding her arms and glaring at him.

They glare until Jason decides to break their staring contest. "Okay, can we discuss" he waves at the body on the bed "all this?"

"Yes, right. That's not me." Danny floats closer to observe the body, closely watched by every occupant in the room. I still haven't been released from the sheer _shock_ of Danny suddenly walking back in. I probably am _in_ shock. Jason seems to agree, since he hasn't moved from right behind me.

"Who is it?" Batman demands. I can hear the frustration in his tone. He doesn't know what's happening, and that off-sets him. I know the feeling. Will Danny stop _dancing_ around _how_ in the entire freaking _GHOST ZONE_ he _survived_?!

"Uhhhh… Maybe I shouldn't have led with that…" Danny looks sheepish. He rubs the back of his neck and starts to grow nervous under the collective gaze of the entire League. "See, technically, it _is_ me…"

"Another clone?" Tim asks. I hadn't even noticed he was in the room. Now that I mention it, I didn't realize the entire BatFamily is in the room. Man, I am out of it...

"No, no," Danny says quickly, "As you've probably gathered, it's rather difficult to clone me." For the first time, he makes direct eye contact with me and smiles wide.

"Okay, what?!" Flash flicks into view right in front of Phantom. "Dude, you better start explaining. First there's a girl Phantom fighting _your_ baddie, and then she's human, and then you're dead, _and_ human, which you've apparently _been_ for the entire time we've known you! And then you're alive, and there's another you that _is_ dead, and now you're sharing secret smiles with a girl that may or may not be your _clone_?!"

"Is," I correct him, starting to feel more like myself. "Vlad is not as smart as he thinks he is."

"But you guys are right. Let me explain. This is going to get complicated, so let me start with how I survived." Danny faces the entire League, losing his anxiety and becoming unshakable in the same moment.

"This Danny is from another time stream. In that time stream, it's not me but _Danielle_ who dies." I want to correct him on my name but think better of it. "She dies, and the world pretty much falls apart. Batman does call the League together, but isn't able to get there himself because he doesn't know to knock the ghosts out of people by shooting an ecto-ray at them. Because of that, no one in the League knows to do that. They don't even have _weapons_. They Justice League falls in record time.

"I get there, but Vlad distracts me with the news that Danielle is dead. When I confirm this, I go back for his blood, much like you did for mine." He gives me a knowing, familial look before returning to his tale. "Since I was wearing my watch, our fight came to a draw. However, Vlad used the powers of the League members he had possessed to attack me, and I was overwhelmed. All Vlad did, however, was take my time watch.

"We lost in every aspect. The entire League except the Bats, Shazam, the Flashes and Doctor Fate were possessed. Arsenal didn't complete the mission you gave him, Dani." Phantom looks to me again. "Vlad must've been keeping an eye on the thermos, and knew it would go missing during the fight. He was ready for him.

"We regrouped, resupplied. But the next time we went in on the fight, five days later, Vlad was ready. He studied every move I would or could make, and he trashed me, hard. Everyone he couldn't possess he captured, and…" He swallows hard, looking down to avoid catching anyone's eye. "Sometimes killed." He looks back up, traces of sadness disappearing from his eyes. "Anyway, he spared me. I couldn't do anything, at that point. So, I went to Clockwork, who's the Father of Time. I begged him to send me back, to let me change the past. Against all odds, he did.

"I went back just before the attack. I… He… knocked me out and tossed me into Clockwork's tower, where I'd be outside of time. That's where I found out what happened, in both time streams. After dumping me, he went to Arsenal, gave him a thermos to switch out for the other one. He went to Batman and Nightwing and told them how to dispel the ghosts. And then he went to the alley, where Vlad was going to kill you, and took your place." He floats down to the dead Danny again. "I'd say if I were him I'd've written a note, but clearly that didn't occur to me."

A couple Leaguers chuckle at Danny's joke, but I'm still focused on the fact that another time stream's Danny saved my life, and not this time stream's.

I… I don't know how to react to this new information. Should I be happy? I look back down at the dead Danny. He gave his life for mine, for both of us, in order to save another time stream. I guess it was pretty ingenious of him to create a paradox Vlad couldn't see, but he still _died._ "Why was it so important that one of us die?"

"Vlad and I have been evenly matched ever since we started fighting each other. We've never been able to one-up each other. But you would give me a distinct advantage. You've been neutral for a long time, but something this huge… He knew where you'd stand."

"Now he believes you dead," Batman continues, "And so, won't be looking for you. This Phantom set his sight on the wrong time stream's future."

Tim picks it up, a slight grin pulling at the side of his mouth. "Everything he sees won't come to pass."

"He still has several members of the League under possession," Wonder Woman interrupts. "Their combined powers could destroy this world. Plasmius might be vanquished by Phantom and his clone, but what of the rest of his army?"

"That's where Danny Fenton comes in," Danny smirks, winking at Wonder Woman. "I might not have finished it, but I have a lot of what Batman asked for ready to use. And I don't think Plasmius is really going to be a problem." He sends me a teasing look, but I don't appreciate his humor.

"Why not?" I ask. I don't like that he's hiding something more from me.

"Because, Dani! When your emotion came out like that, not only did you get your obsession, but you also got your core!"

"And you know that just by watching a couple time-screens?"

"It's obvious," he scoffs, floating down to me. "I'm not going to tell you your obsession, because that's something you need to figure out on your own. But your core…"

"Why does it matter?" Wonder Woman snaps. "We have a war to fight."

"Because," Phantom replies, glancing over at her with that mischievous smile I had thought I'd never see again. "It's so rare, I've never even encountered it before. Dani has the ability to _create_. And with that," he smiles at me, landing on the ground so I can fully see him, fully _absorb_ the fact that he's alive (well, you know what I mean). "We can win."

* * *

**VOILA! I've been so excited about that, reading your reviews. (You guys are so dramatic I love it 3) It was _so hard_ not to update immediately after I finished this chapter, but I wanted you guys to mourn for a little while. I HAVE SO MUCH POWER! Also, about that little fake-out... I have one in all of my fanfictions. The last one was a false ending and it was _hilarious_. Y'all loved it, right? Right?**

**Whatever. I won't apologize for who I am. **

**Anyway, a couple responses, though I expect I answered a lot of your questions. **

**First off, nequam-tenshi, I really did like your excerpt, but since I had the scene planned out, I couldn't use it. However, I did use Jason as the Bat to comfort her, so I hope that incorporates your ideas alright. Second, Danny died because the Plasmius Maximus (shaped as a knife, in the death scene), simultaneously turned him into a human and killed him, so his ghost side couldn't help him survive. And third, I guess there kind of was a time travel thing that saved Danny, but it was more of a paradox than anything.**

**Signing off with only a little fear, **

**Starr**


	32. Chapter 32

Danny insists that we use the next few days to recover and build up our ghost weapon arsenal. We hole up in the Watchtower, using a ghost shield that Danny promises will keep out any ghosts.

While those with ghost belts address the populace, the rest of us pool together all the resources that counteract ghosts. Zatanna was possessed, but we still have Doctor Fate, who puts spells on Danny's belts to widen the force field around it to include more people. Sam makes several trips back to Amity, where she promises that the city has been shielded and the people are safe. She also takes a couple heroes with her to bring back all the gear that Danny had completed.

Batman agreed that no one leaves the WatchTower unless absolutely necessary; Plasmius will undoubtedly be looking for a way to pick off more of the League. Until everyone is belted, no one else leaves (Except for the Flashes, who are apparently immune to overshadowing). Plasmius hadn't made any more moves against the general populace, which helped to settle the antsy heroes, but it was still proving difficult to keep everyone under house arrest. Wonder Woman in particular had taken to pacing in front of the monitors.

"What is Plasmius seeing right now?" Dani asks Danny as he tinkers with a mess of wires in his hands. He's trying to teach us how to make the belts, but as we've found, he's not a very good teacher. Dani, while not participating in the inventions, had barely left Danny's side since he'd reappeared.

"Um… The other timeline, I think. He sees time as one event leading to another, not as several events creating several different paths."

"Not making much sense," Sam taunts from her spot on his other side. Like Dani, she's hesitant to leave him alone. "I mean, in the other timeline _you _survived, so wouldn't Vlad be confused?"

"The timeline if I hadn't come back," he mutters, distracted by something in his hands. I try to follow his movements as he twists two wires together and inverts it into the device. It's a marvel the belts turned out as modern as they did, what with all this messy wiring.

"Anyone else feel like we're making over-complicated friendship bracelets?" Tim asks, twisting the wires like Danny had but struggling to invert them the same way he had.

I grunt in agreement.

"Please," Damian snaps, looking frustrated with his own. "If an eighteen year old high school drop out can make them-"

"Hey, I graduated high school!" Danny shakes his wires at him, which is starting to look less like wires and more like a disk. "And this stuff is super complicated. I don't understand all the logistics of it, I just know how to make it. Sorry if that's unhelpful."

"Your attitude is unhelpful," Dani mutters from the floor. I have to agree with Tim: it does feel like we're making friendship bracelets at a slumber party. You know, with our strict dad sitting in the corner observing us all.

"How about you try?" Sam asks Dani, nudging her with her foot.

"With my Algebra I ingenuity? Yeah, right."

"She means with your powers, Dani," Danny chides, still hyper focused on the thing in front of him. I'd gotten lost in his instruction, but I still try to catch up. Danny uses a sodering iron to bind a few more metal strips, then clips the ends of the wires, and finally replaces the metal plating on the back of the disk. "Viola! It is complete."

He looks up and finds that no one else has completed theirs. Barbara is the closest to it, having gone into a type of hyperfocus that allows her to listen to instruction and create the device at the same time. I drop mine-still a mess of wires, and take Danny's into my hands. "Shouldn't it be glowing?"

"Ah, yes." He takes it back and it glows a light blue before the green light flows through the circuitry. "Ectoplasm needs a catalyst to work. It either takes a halfa's energy-" his hands glow blue "-or an enormous amount of electrical and ecto power."

"Which is why you never teach," Batman concludes. "Without exposing your powers, you would need a power source with enough electricity to power an entire city."

"Exactly." He tosses the disk to Dani, who catches it. "Your turn."

Dani gives us an exaggerated groan before the two rings of light transform her into her alter ego. Having only been present for her change from ghost to human, I pay more attention to the changes. Her hair, eyes and skin tone changes, along with her outfit, but other than that, her structure remains the same. The _real_ change-the one that makes her ghost and human sides so different-is her attitude. Her gaze sharpens and regards everything around her more carefully; her movements are fluid and disconnected from gravity; power radiates off her in a glowing white sheen.

They're exactly what I've observed from Phantom, but out of context.

Dani sits cross-legged a few inches off the ground, holding the disk in both hands. "What do I do?"

Danny shrugs.

"You suck," Dani tells him bluntly.

"Fentons don't follow instruction. They just do things."

"It's a good thing I'm only half Fenton, then. Dick, any ideas?"

I secretly adore the way she considers herself half-Grayson. "You hate meditation, Dani, so I doubt you'll let us walk you through any visualization exercise. Besides, aren't ghost powers run off emotion? Logic doesn't apply here."

Halfway through my reply, Batman is called to the main projection room and takes his leave, discarding his mostly-completed invention.

"That's a really good point," Sam offers, sitting up. Danny looks at her with a question in his eyes. "Think about it, Danny. Everytime you got a new power you were saving someone, or feeling something strongly. When you trained, you could never figure out a new power until you were actively in a fight."

"So I'll make a whole bunch of these when I'm fighting Plasmius. Problem solved." Dani tosses the disk onto a table.

"No, you've already discovered the power. Here, let me try something." Danny switches to his Phantom form and floats in front of Dani. He instructs her to close her eyes and does the same. Feeling our gazes, he opens them again. "Don't you guys have your own belt things to construct?"

We all return to our work for just long enough for Danny and Dani to get started. "Remember when you thought I was dead?"

"How could I forget? It was… what, three days ago?"

"What did you feel at first?"

"I don't know…" Dani does know. I can see it in the tremor of her arm, the crease of her eyebrows. "_Pavor_."

"And what is that?"

"There's no English word for it. A broken world, kind of. Terror and despair so intense it makes your bones shake."

"And after that?"

Her hands start actively shaking. "Anger."

"Just anger?" His voice and face are maddeningly serene, a strict contrast to Dani's pained and pinched expression.

"So angry I felt like I could punch the ground and break the world straight through the middle." Her light grows brighter, and her hands darken into a more forest green. It looks as if she might create exactly what we were hoping she would, but Danny keeps talking.

"After you woke up, from the fight?"

Dani deflates instantly. "Just… sad, I guess. Tired. Something was empty inside me, and it hurt to breathe."

"And then when you saw me?"

"I was so, so relieved." Dani gains a little smile.

"And the emptiness? The exhaustion?"

"Gone."

"And if I were threatened, right now?"

"I wouldn't let it happen again, obviously." Something strange happens then. Dani's face sets firmly, her power spreads evenly around her, and a disk exactly like Danny's drops into her lap. She startles and catches it, looking at it incomprehensibly. "It… worked?"

I realize now why Danny bypassed Dani's anger for the emotion she would use. Danny had figured out how to properly use the rage and despair of heartbreak. Instead of using it, he learned from it… He uses it as a reminder of what could happen, and uses that knowledge to give him the strength to protect others from it.

It's something I've seen from only the most experienced fighters; the warriors that have fought for so long that they know destructive emotions will only lead to failure, and that true strength comes from emotions of calm and reason. Not all these fighters use their skill for good, but they all use them without any negative emotion urging them on.

"Wow. Won't it dissolve, though?"

"Um… Not sure. I don't think so, because Clockwork said you had a 'creation' core, and since _my_ constructs dissolve, it would make sense if yours didn't. But who knows? Maybe it depends on what kind of ectoplasm you use."

"Do you really know so little about your species?" Damian asks in a scathing manner, probably frustrated at his project. "It's as if you do not care."

"It's not that I don't care, it's just that I don't really have the time to care," Danny replies off-handedly, beginning another disk. I start to watch again, hoping another visual would help me to complete my own. "I mean, I have college, I invent, there's the Justice League _and_ protecting my own town, and then there's friends, family and Sam."

"Am I in my own category?"

"If I made a venn diagram, you'd be in the middle. _If_ you say yes."

"_If_," Sam teases with a smile, pecking him on the lips before lying back down on her back. I find it funny that she'd said she would say yes when Danny was "dead", but is now dragging it on. I understand; she knows it's a yes, she just doesn't know if she's ready to commit to it yet. Like Babs and I. We know we're perfect for each other, we're just… not ready.

Speaking of Babs, she startles out of her sitting position suddenly, like she'd just woken from a strange dream. "Done," she announces, waving her own completed disk at the rest of us.

Danny gives her an impressed look and accepts it, inspecting it for errors. Dani tries to peer over his shoulder, but he waves her off and tells her to keep making her own disks.

We settle back into our respective positions, allowing Danny and Babs to urge our own projects along. Eventually the opportunity for conversation pops up and I seize it. After Danny returned, he and Dani had been running around preparing for the impending showdown. It included collecting weapons, readying allies and recruiting all the League's backup members still free of overshadowing ghosts.

"Remember Jason?" I ask suddenly. Jason, who'd given up on the electronic friendship bracelets long ago and was now creating bullets out of some of Danny's materials, looks up in interest from across the room.

"Vividly," he offers.

"No, I meant… the incident."

He rolls his eyes.

Dani cracks open one of her eyes. "Yes."

"Did you go in there because you had powers?"

Dani smiles, her eyes shut again. "I wasn't going to use them, but yeah."

Jason leans forward, more interested now. "You did, though, didn't you? There's no way you undid those state-of-the-art handcuffs in less than a minute."

Dani huffs an annoyed sigh. "Yes, I did. Do you want a list of all the times I used my powers in your manor?" She abandons her efforts and counts down on her fingers. "To find Bruce's time capsule. To sneak Alfred's cookies after dark. The Jason Incident. And finally, to get out of that stupid trap Tim laid for me."

"I knew it!" Tim exclaims.

"So you're not an escape artist," Damian accuses, abandoning his own project. It's half done, but by Damian's frustrated expression, I'm guessing it won't be finished. "You lied."

"No, I didn't. I _am_ an escape artist. I usually don't use my powers. Sometimes I even _can't_." She rolls her green eyes. "Just because I have the ultimate cheat doesn't mean I use it all the time."

The tinkering silence is broken moments later by Tim. "What was on that program you had me design?"

"Our identities," Dani grunts, trying to keep her eyes closed and failing. "And Vlad's."

"Masters?" Damian asks, fidgeting with his phone. "What about him?"

Danny looks to Damian with a tilted head. "Masters is Plasmius. I thought that was obvious."

I laugh as Jason, Damian and Babs startle at the news. "She was created by Masters, and he had to have known what he was creating. Masters is Fenton's arch nemesis and Plasmius is Phantom's, so the connection isn't really that hard to make."

Babs rolls her eyes at me. "It makes sense now that you say it out loud. But can I just ask the question we're all wondering?"

"How two terrible liars managed to fool the entire Justice League and Batmen Incorporated?" Tim interjects.

"Conjunction infallacy," Danny responds without hesitation. We wait for more and he glances up, unrepentant. "My sister is a psychology prodigy. She says people expect ghosts to be dead, so they don't read more into it. People don't go looking for existential crisises."

"Crisi," I correct, grinning at Dani.

"What I _meant_," Babs stresses, "Is how one _becomes_ a half ghost."

"Clone one. Easy. Next question?"

Danny smirks at Dani's joke but replies to Babs directly. "Experimental ghost portal, explosion, on button on the inside, yada yada yada."

"Don't forget Sam."

"Oh, right. And a Sam to convince you it's a good idea to go inside said experimental portal."

Sam shoves Danny into Dani, and they both laugh at her. "How does one become one of you?" Danny asks the rest of us.

"Your parents have to die," I tell him immediately.

"Mine aren't dead," Damian corrects.

"They've both been dead at least two times each," Tim argues.

"Only one of mine is dead," Babs offers.

"This is really depressing," Danny says, looking around the group. "Are you guys okay? Do you need me to get my sister?"

"We'd be better if these things would make themselves," Tim groans, tossing Danny his. He'd completed the majority of it but had gotten stuck. Danny immediately begins disentangling his work.

"It's all good," Sam offers. "Dani finished our order."

We all look to where our pile had been accumulating, only to find that Sam was right and the pile has doubled in size. Dani startles. "I wasn't trying to make them."

Danny laughs. "Stuff like that happens when you're comfortable. It's like how I accidentally freeze stuff when I'm with my friends."

I cock my head at him. Dani lets an unnatural pause stretch between us before declaring she has to go see Arsenal.

"Anyway," Danny continues once Dani has left, awkward once more, "Now that we have all this stuff done, I think we might be ready to storm Vlad's mansion."

"Maybe we should come up with a plan first," Tim suggests, probably taken aback by Danny's bluntness.

"You guys have already made a plan for how to get in, how to defeat the ghosts, who's going where… You've basically planned this thing to death." Danny smirks at his joke.

"So what are we doing with the sentient ghosts once we knock them out? It's not as if they'll just leave."

"And what about Vlad?" I interject. "Do we have a plan to contain him?"

Danny sighs. "You guys are thinking way too hard about this. These are ghosts. They don't have plan Bs or contingencies. Once you mess up their plan, we can just suck them up in the thermos or let them go back to the Ghost Zone on their own."

"What if we left them in the thermos?" Jason suggests. "That way they can't cause anymore problems."

"It's cramped and painful in the thermos," Danny argues, setting aside his current project and addressing Jason directly. "I wouldn't submit any of my ghosts to an eternity inside it." He grows thoughtful. "Well, maybe one."

Tim seems to agree with Jason. "But they just keep coming back. If you were to lock them up, they wouldn't cause anymore problems. Besides, they're dead, aren't they?"

Danny's entire demeanor changes in that one sentence. His eyes flash green and he jumps to his feet. "Yeah, they are. They're _dead_. And you want to lock them up on top of that?"

"They just keep coming back," Tim reasons, looking resigned at Danny's anger. "Isn't insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?"

"Um, let's see… _How_ many times has Joker been locked up in Arkham Asylum and escaped?" Danny scoffs and waves his arms for emphasis. "These ghosts don't know any better. They're hurting. Trying to figure out how to live their afterlives. Honestly, the only real crime they're doing is _attempting _world domination and failing epically each time. Other than that, the only other thing they do is annoy me and destroy _Vlad_'s property. If you want to mess with that, you're going to have to go through me. And really, you should be worried about your own city; you can't just shut off a portal to stop crime in _Gotham_."

Danny finishes his rant and stomps out of the room, Sam slowly picking herself up and trailing after.

I think I finally understand the ghosts' respect for Danny. They "hate" him, but they're his only interaction outside of the Ghost Zone. Likely, Danny makes himself the obstacle to their obsession-letting them fight him gives them something to fight _for_. I don't pretend to understand how ghosts work or pass over or "die", but I know the whole point is for them to be stuck in a kind of limbo. Danny interrupts it, even at the cost of a large portion of his time.

Damian scoffs. "A _real_ hero would stop the crime."

"A real hero," I correct him, slowly standing up to get the blood flowing again, "helps criminals, too." I pick up a disk and flick it over to Damian. "Now, shall we take down the coward who beats up teenagers?"

* * *

**Ugh sorry that took so long to get out. I had band camp, and it was exhausting. Anyway, the main purpose of that chapter was to clear some things up and return the storyline to Dani's point of view for the big showdown, which will happen next chapter. After that, all I have left is the prologue and we'll be done! (Actually, I'll probably do one-shots within this storyline every once in a while, because I think these characters would make it fun).**

**Thank you all so much for hanging with me throughout this whole thing! It means so much that something as dorky as my fanfiction is getting positive feedback.**

**Until next time! ~Starr**


	33. Chapter 33

The power is flooding my veins. I can't decide if I'm terrified or euphoric at the feeling, but in this moment all that matters is what I'm capable of. Danny doesn't die this day, not so soon after we got him back. Dick isn't dying either. No one is.

My shield rushes out of me like a torrent of water, painting the air in front of me green. Vlad slams against the suddenly tangible wall, roaring his own personalized obscenities. "Butter- Do you really think you can defeat me, _child_?! When Daniel has failed time and time again?"

Vlad always threatened the world, the city, and most often, Danny himself. Danny could always mess up Vlad's plans because they actively threatened his obsession to protect, but could never defeat him because Vlad stayed away from direct attacks. But he doesn't know my obsession.

_No one_ threatens my family.

That isn't to say I'm having delusions about my success. Vlad has 25 years of experience on me, and all the power of a crazed up obsession. But my obsession is stronger. My _core_ is stronger. No one will die today.

No one but me.

* * *

TWO HOURS EARLIER

"Are we ready?" Danny asks, adjusting his belt full of surprises. He'd added a couple more gadgets to give him an edge against Plasmius's power, not that he'd be facing him alone.

"Born that way," I respond, my right fist pressing into my left palm. "Literally. Born that way."

"You were born at twelve; we get it," Sam groans, but I see past her thinly-veiled irritation to the apprehension and worry she's doing her best to override. She checks and rechecks her holstered weapons every few minutes as a nervous tick, and she does it now. But then, I can't really judge, as I'd been toying with the watch on my wrist since we gathered for briefing.

"Phantoms, Flashes," Batman orders from the control panel, hands poised on the holographic keyboard.

We're the initial attack: Flash, Kid Flash and Impulse will run Danny and I in, where they'll invisibly drop us off. Vlad, in his perpetual arrogance, will spend the next few minutes floundering over how his sight could possibly have led him astray, giving Danny and I the time we need to get in place for an ambush.

Meanwhile, the rest of the League and team Phantom will attack the army Vlad has amassed. I forget the specifics, but I remember Wonder Woman and a suited Jazz are in charge of Superman, while the Flash and Doctor Fate take down Shazam. I also remember that Dick and Damian were put on the issue of Green Lantern, and that Tim and Barbara had been assigned a secret sub-mission.

Batman had planned out every contingency and directed every team member to where they'd fare best. I can't pretend to understand all the logistics of how he'd interwoven all the moving parts; I'm just focused on getting through my part alive.

My thoughts run through my head idly as I float over to where the Flashes are waiting, each performing their own fidgets at hyperspeed. "Um, Dani," Jason prompts, waving his hand in my peripheral vision. "Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"Oh, sure." I swoop to him, throwing a too-brief hug around his shoulders. He barely has time to react before I float over to Dick to repeat the gesture. "Bye guys, don't die." To Tim I offer a fist bump, ever striving to coax him into embarrassment. He ignores my proffered fist, as I expected, but surprises me with a tight hug.

"Same goes for you," he states firmly before letting go.

I shoot him a smile before moving onto Babs, giving her a brief side-hug. To Arsenal, I try for a hug but find it much to awkward, backing away with finger guns and a strained smile. He just smiles at my antics, ignoring the inquisitive looks from Dick and Jason.

Damian has his arms folded and has trained his gaze on something to the right of Batman. I don't think he's being petty; he's probably just distancing himself from the impending hug. Knowing him as well as I do, I simply put a hand on his shoulder, staring him straight in the white eyes of his domino mask.

There's so much I want to say to him in particular. _I'm sorry I didn't tell you first. I love and trust you with all my heart. You're my best friend. _

But now is not the time for that. Emotions are high because of the impending mission and the still fresh roller coaster of Lost-and-Found. I feel compelled to tell each and every bat how much they mean to me, how intensely I feel bonds with each of them. Even though I know logically I have a solid chance of surviving the next day, there's always the chance I might not.

Still, I want Damian to know most of all. But instead of stating in plain words how I feel, my mouth works of my own accord. "Stay fresh homie." Too far gone to correct my mistake, I go all in with a peace sign. Damian frowns.

"_Ya'burnee_," he replies. Arabic, and a phrase I know well. Collecting phrases and idioms from other cultures have been a hobby of mine since I began traveling. Since Damian was only taught through strict discipline, he had only learned to translate languages, not actually how to _speak_ them. One of our favorite pastimes results in mutually sharing our knowledge.

This particular phrase happened after yet another Arabic day. It means, "you bury me", otherwise translated as "one would rather die than lose other".

Leftover embarrassment clings to my insides as I tilt my head in silent agreement with his statement. Without any other exchanges, we go our separate ways: his at Dick's side and mine on the boom tube launch pad. Instead of the Zeta Beam, Batman had opted to use the old boom tube system since no Zeta portals were in range of Plasmius' mansion.

Despite how endless that seemed to have stretched, it really had all occurred under two minutes. Danny had bantered with Jazz, teased Tucker and was now bidding Sam goodbye. "In case I don't come back, give me an answer?"

"How about, when you come back you get your answer."

Danny lets out a sound between a groan and a whine. Sam just stares him down until he relents. "Finnnnne, but no more stalling, woman!"

Sam just rolls her eyes and, either oblivious to her audience or simply not caring about it, she pulls Danny down from where he floats in front of her and lands a kiss on his mouth. I look away, uncomfortable, and find that I'm pretty much the only one. Everyone else ships them, I guess.

Batman interrupts them after a short pause, impatient. "Now isn't the time for this."

Danny grants himself a couple more seconds before pulling away with a smile directed at Sam, soon joining me at the launch pad. "Anytime we get is the time for the people we love," Danny tells Batman bluntly. "Take it from a ghost."

"Half ghost," several people correct him at the same time.

"Awesome, that's started," Danny mutters, his hand briefly making contact with his forehead.

Batman questions us with one more look and, receiving no further protests, beams us out of the Watchtower.

* * *

After a short blur of activity (literal blur, these _are _the Flashes), I find myself disoriented in a hallway. Why am I in a hallway? Am I supposed to be invisible right now? Moments before I let go of my invisibility, the reality of the mission hits me like a ton of bricks. Crap, that would've been a really dumb way to reveal myself.

I silently fly down the hallway, peering out around the corner in case there are other invisible ghosts. Finding no one, I go down the opposite direction, almost colliding into Danny as I round the corner. Startled at the other's sudden appearance, we both jump back in surprise before smiling at our mutual skittishness.

Danny points down the opposite hallway, and I follow without question.

Twice we are forced to disappear into the walls around us as ghosts patrol the hallway, but it's otherwise quiet. The rest of the League is giving us twenty minutes to get into position before they deploy another stealth team with the sole purpose of getting discovered.

Danny and I burn off a good seven minutes floating through the hallways, searching for the entrance to Vlad's lab. Tension runs high until Danny caves, throwing up his arms and grabbing my wrist. He pulls me to the ground and mimes several obscure objects. The only one I understand is the shovel.

I make one, the simple object easy after all those belt things.

Danny shakes his head, exasperated, before finally just telling me what he meant. "Get us in there with something," he murmurs under his breath.

I brandish the shovel at him, letting it dissolve before throwing my hands up in exasperation. How was I supposed to get that, from what was very obviously _digging_?

Several options flit through my head, all either dangerous or useless. Danny had been betting that Vlad would keep the entrance in his office as usual, but for some reason he hadn't considered the possibility that he wouldn't know where the office _is_.

How am I supposed to make something that can get through the ground _and_ the ghost shield? They're two opposing forces that keep both our forms out.

Then the most obvious solution hits me over the head. Make something that will turn the ghost shield off. I send a silent thanks to all the Bats for teaching me logical thinking. Danny's great at the theoretical stuff, but logic? Not so much.

Okay. I don't have the understanding of ghost tech to short circuit it that way, and I don't really have the skill to make an electronic virus, but… My gaze falls on a power outlet.

Danny mimes at me to hurry up.

I summon the power surrounding me, feel the ectoplasm from Vlad's lab rising through the floor. I breathe in, out.

Feeling the cool ectoplasm beneath my hands, I open my eyes to find an EMP generator, identical to the one in the BatCave. Danny raises his eyebrows.

Wasting no time, I grab Danny's hand and turn us both intangible immediately after flicking the switch on the machine. The hallway descends into darkness for an instant before the backup power turns on, but by then I had already phased both Danny and I through the floor.

We find Vlad in seconds, as his silky smooth voice penetrates every inch of the cavernous underground lab. Darting through the machines and past the docile overshadowed humans and Leaguers, we make our way through the lab.

Silent and invisible, we hover above where Vlad Plasmius is speaking to Desiree. She's stretched out in the air, eyes on Plasmius. Both are seemingly unaware of the power outage and Danny and I's presence.

"-sure you're not draining yourself?" Vlad is saying.

"No," Desiree assures him, stretching her hands above her head. "The ultimate desire of all men is to transcend death. And after all, their wish… is my command."

Danny and I exchange confused glances.

"I'd wish for victory, but by now I know it is inevitable."

At that moment, the alarms go off. Vlad's brow furrows in confusion. Desiree straightens, glancing at Vlad before finding he has no more answers than she does. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Vlad's frown deepens. "No." Desiree gestures to a team of ghosts to go scout out the problem. Meanwhile, Vlad's eyes look at something none of the rest of us can see, but before he gets too far, Danny and I agree on an ambush and attack. Danny's ice pours out of his hands in a torrent, enveloping Vlad's entire form in a single blast. I come in with my own attack on Desiree, forming a giant butterfly net and catching her up in it.

The impressive light show draws the attention of the roaming spirits, though none move to attack. The shades likely are not instructed to, and the other, more intelligent ghosts are staring, slack jawed, at Danny.

"Babypop!" crows Fire, who I know realize is overshadowed by Ember.

"Don't just stand there, you cheese rolls!" Vlad shouts at them, struggling out of Danny's icy prison. "Attack!"

Danny cups his hands around his mouth. "You heard him!"

When the decoy team was spotted and the ghosts rushed out of the lab to go attack them, the other members of the League made their way in. At Danny's cry, members appear from the shadows, already taking down those around them. It's hard to focus on them, however, once Vlad gets his bearings and launches a counterattack.

Desiree rips her way out of my net. I allow it to disintegrate, deciding to conserve my ectoplasm. With so many ghosts around, it's hard to keep it in one place. Without a plan of attack, Desiree lashes at me.

I narrowly duck her clawed hands, surprised at her speed, but quickly follow up with a ectoplasm-infused uppercut. "Dani!" Danny shouts from behind me. Without wasting a single moment, I whirl around and aim a blast at Vlad. Danny regains the upper hand, switching tactics from defense to offense with another icy blast.

My own opponent takes advantage of my distraction, but luckily I was better trained than she and sensed her attack. Desiree and I trade blows, though hardly any of hers land. I hadn't realized quite how much I had absorbed in the Wayne household until this moment-though competency in my ghost powers left much to be desired.

The power feels _right_; it enhances my speed and strength, heightens my instincts. But it's also unfamiliar and far too eager, trying to keep going even as I try to reel it back. As one of my punches is dodged by Desiree, there's a moment of scramble as I try to switch gears and fall back. Desiree seizes the opportunity, landing a rock hard punch right in the middle of my face. I scramble back, dazed but still shooting energy.

I hear a grunt from behind me as I recover, but my vision is too blurred to make sense of the scene. Gathering a sphere of ectoplasm, I aim at the fuzzy blob I'm certain is Desiree and let loose my barrage. She crumbles into the wall, allowing me more time to aide Danny, who's struggling under Vlad's expertise. I add a shield between the two halfas, still too blind to aim correctly.

Desiree reappears from where she'd phased through the wall, eyes red and hair sticking straight out with anger. Glancing behind me, we lock gazes and I casually wink.

She roars, launching herself at me with hands extended and nails like talons. Danny and I exchange a glance before simultaneously phasing through the ground. We immediately resurface on either side of where Desiree had collided with Vlad. They struggle to disentangle themselves, each ending up injuring the other.

Danny and I grin at each other before the sounds of the battle draws my attention. Damian is struggling against what appears to be Walker in Zatanna's body. A fleeting thought wondering at why Damian was fighting Zatanna instead of Green Lantern flits across my conscious before I focus more on the danger he's in. I glance at Danny, and he nods, letting his hands collect ice energy. Silently, we accept our roles.

I throw my hands out at the possessed Zatanna, chains shooting from my palms and wrapping themselves her from her shoulders to her knees. I signal at Damian, who flips himself onto a nearby machine to get closer to where Zatanna struggles. "Kcolnu ym morf-"

Walker's hesitation in coming up with the backward words is the time Damian needs to produce a scrap of cloth and gag Zatanna. My first instinct had been to treat the threat like a person, but I now realize I could've just shot Walker out of her. I do so now, only for my beam to hit her in the chest and knock her backwards.

"Some magical enchantment," Damian comments off-handedly, sheathing the gun in his hand so he can replace it with his katana. "Doctor Fate will purify her at another time."

I give him a thumbs up before we both go our separate ways.

With another construct, this time a lasso, I force Desiree away from the two-on-one fight against Danny. I loop the rope around her torso several times, but she merely elongates her body to escape.

My construct morphs into a giant fly swatter that I grasp with my arms and spin around with, catching Desiree with the edge of the tool and sending her flying. She is accidently caught in the beam of a thermos another hero was using to suck up several shades, and I'm finally rid of her.

I return to Danny, who has been smacked into a nearby wall.

"This is my _destiny_," Vlad roars, power shimmering in his eyes as a dark rage consumes his features. "Pathetic _heroes _will not take this from me!"

I suddenly feel all the ectoplasm in the room redirect itself towards Vlad. As a sort of instinct I hadn't known I'd picked up, I seize all the energy within my reach and hold tight to it, refusing to let the torrent take it. All the shades that hadn't been destroyed fade into light, sucked into the vortex that Vlad was creating.

Danny and I lock gazes from opposite sides of the room. Our thoughts are the same: _we have to stop him._

We both attack at the same time but are thrown by an invisible force. My whole world is a blur of color until I slam into a wall, rattling my insides and chasing all coherent thought from my mind. I struggle to regain my senses as I slide down from the wall, only barely catching the sight of Vlad surrounded in ectoplasm.

Nightwing is suddenly at my side, grasping my elbow and pulling me upright. He doesn't ask if I'm okay; his gaze is focused on Vlad. I feel a shake deep in my bones, and it takes me a couple moments to realize that it wasn't me that was shaking, but the whole compound. Vlad's power is pressing against the side of the building, begging to be set free.

The ceiling starts to fall.

"Sam!" I hear from Danny.

I try to conjure a shield, but there's too little ectoplasm. Instead, I snatch up Nightwing's hand, turning us both intangible.

There's a scramble as more durable heroes launch themselves at civilians and vulnerable team members, shielding them from the falling debris.

I feel displaced as I run forward with Dick in tow, creating a human chain of intangibles. The world is all shouts and rumbles and crashes, a storm of noise and chaos only amplified by the debris falling through me. Once it settles, I immediately release the two people holding my hands, resulting in the whole chain becoming palpable once more.

"Danny!" I scream. It isn't because I think he's injured, but more because Vlad is an epitome of power, illuminating the entire sky. "Danny!"

He materializes from the ground, the center of a mass of civilians. He phases out from them, dashing over to me. I point to the sky.

"What's happening?" Batman's stern voice demands of him. He came out of nowhere, but I suppose that's just his job.

"The shades…" Danny realizes, his eyes wide as he watches the ball of light. "They were real people. Desiree empowered them, but when she was gone… Vlad took all their power."

"What do we do?" Sam asks.

"_We_ do nothing." Danny's glare hardens. "This is _my _fight. Vlad has always been after me. We've always been evenly matched. But today, it ends."

Bold words, but then, fortune favors the bold.

Threats in the form of possessed members continued to press down on the League, distracting anyone from arguing with him as he flies towards the mass of power. Sam screams his name in frustration.

I shake my head, clearing my thoughts.

Then I float up, intent on following. Dick's hand is suddenly on my wrist, his domino mask staring at my face. "What do you think you're going to do?" he shouts over the sounds of Vlad's power storm.

"This wants an eye for an eye," I shout back, my voice shaking even as my resolve turns diamond. "But there are three eyes! Danny doesn't die today!"

My hands phases out of his grip, and I leave behind his desperate gaze. I shoot skyward, wind ripping at my hair, pulling it free from its ponytail. I enter the torrent, momentarily getting caught up in the tornado before settling in the eye of the storm. Danny's agonized screams filter through the rush of wind in my ears. My gaze settles on Vlad surrounding Danny in electric ectoplasm, a maniacal grin on his face.

I throw a punch at Vlad's face and Danny is released, sucked up in the air and thrown out of the sphere of power. "It's you and me now, Vlad," I scream over the roar.

"Yes," he responds, his voice carrying despite how quiet he'd spoken. "From beginning to end."

The electric ectoplasm finds me and every nerve is set on fire. Is this what Danny felt when he died? How did he survive?

Eyes watering, chest screaming, skin burning, I refuse to let the electricity keep coursing through me. The pain intensifies, but I continue to hold fast to the power, accepting it within myself instead of allowing it to ravish my frayed nerves.

_Mine_. This pain, this _power_, is mine.

It's flooding my veins. I can't decide if I'm terrified or euphoric at the feeling, but in this moment all that matters is what I'm capable of. Danny doesn't die this day, not so soon after we got him back. Dick isn't dying either. No one is.

My shield rushes out of me like a torrent of water, painting the air in front of me green. Vlad slams against the suddenly tangible wall, roaring his own personalized obscenities. "Butter- Do you really think you can defeat me, _child_?! When Daniel has failed time and time again?"

Vlad always threatened the world, the city, and most often, Danny himself. Danny could always mess up Vlad's plans because they actively threatened his obsession to protect, but could never defeat him because Vlad stayed away from direct attacks. But he doesn't know my obsession.

_No one_ threatens my family.

That isn't to say I'm having delusions about my success. Vlad has 25 years of experience on me, and all the power of a crazed up obsession. But my obsession is stronger. My _core_ is stronger. No one will die today.

No one but me.

And we clash in a flurry of light. Neon, toxic green meets with a pink-red, spinning and dancing in the night sky. My brain shuts off, and all there is left is the power and a deep, primal _need_ to protect, an overwhelming, all-consuming emotion so raw, so _powerful_ my mind is lost.

Blow for blow, ectoplasm scatters. Each clash is followed by an explosion of lights like fireworks, spiraling into the darkness below. It's almost sentient in the way it moves-like an ocean rising tides and tsunamis and whirlpools at my slightest whim. I'm dazzled and raw and euphoric and determined and enraged and exhilarated and blind with the experience, the colors, the emotions.

And suddenly it all dies as Vlad targets the people below. Fire rains from the sky in the form of ectoplasm, and suddenly the dream is shattered, reality filling the euphoria I felt as we fought.

My ocean spreads itself like an umbrella, leaving me vulnerable to a devastating attack from Vlad. A distraction, of course. Unbelievable. All this power, and it still was not enough. He had to continue threatening my family, my friends. Destroying with the power of creation. It didn't matter that his core was plasma manipulation. He could use all of this to create, but instead the world is burning.

The blueprints for one of Danny's creations constructs itself in my mind's eye. It is then that I realize my power of creation extends to scanning and mentally reconstructing all dimensions of an object. It allows me to create.

I held the Plasmius Maximus.

I had scanned it. Without my knowing, in that moment of intense emotion, I had committed the object to memory.

I adjust a single aspect, and just like that it's resting in my palm.

"I'm the only thing you've created that hasn't destroyed everything it's touched." I shoot through one of the openings in Vlad's defenses, pushing the PM into his abdomen. My face is inches away from his as an expression of shock and pain registers on his features. "Except for you."

I withdraw the Plasmius Maximus.

His mouth drops open in an o.

He falls.

Without another conduit, power floods my senses. I struggle to keep my head above the water, trying to keep my head in the rush of sensations that pours all around me. It feels as though my conscious mind is starved for air, trying to keep from drowning.

Dick.

Danny.

DickDannyDamianTimJasonAlfredBruceBarbaraStephanieRoyDickDannyDamianTimJasonAlfredBruceBarbaraStephanieRoy_DickDannyDamianTimJasonAlfredBruceBarbaraStephanieRoy_

And just like that, the power evaporates into the air, diffusing normally back into the air.

I barely notice that I'm losing altitude, descending back to where my family is gathered. My senses still aren't regained when Damian has reached me, throwing his arms around my shoulders and sending us both tumbling to the ground. Jason and Dick join us, followed by Babs and Tim and Danny and Sam and suddenly I'm laughing because we won we won WE WON!

* * *

**I didn't edit this so I hope it's fine, but I spent four hours completing this and the epilogue so I could be done today and I'm just kind of tired. I'll fix mistakes later. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed the final chapter of my story ;) next chapter is the epilogue!**

**(Sorry it took so long senior year is haaaaaard)**


	34. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**Dani**

My hood, the newest addition to my suit, hangs low in my vision, but I barely notice it's there. I'm too excited.

My breath is white, puffing out in front of me as I sprint across the rooftops in the rain, head low and arms pumping at my sides. The rain leaves pinpricks across my lower face, the only exposed part of my skin, but the cold barely registers. I suddenly wish I were human so I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins, but unfortunately I was dressed for bed when I was suddenly called out.

With a flip and a soft cry of exhilaration, I cross the final jump to my destination and land with my boots in a puddle, sending water in every direction.

Dick laughs, stepping back to avoid the spray. "Not too good at the stealth, now are we?"

"Hey, I'm a ghost."

He folds his arms. "And that means you are automatically stealthy?"

I hold up my hands in surrender. "You said it, not me."

Rather than continue the conversation, I close the distance between us to engulf him in a big hug-or rather, he engulfed me. He'd moved back to Bludhaven last week and I missed him painfully. I don't regret my decision to stay in Gotham, but that doesn't mean the consequences aren't fierce.

"Ready?"

"Duh." I readjust the strap of my backpack on my shoulder, following Dick down the side of the building. Waiting below are two helmets resting on two sleek motorcycles, which Dick and I immediately put on and mount. I connect the helmets so we can speak as we ride, and the two of us rev up our bikes and swerve onto the road.

Just because I decided to stay in Gotham for the majority of my time didn't mean Bludhaven isn't still my second home. Or rather, Dick is. So every weekend I'd stay at Dick's place in Bludhaven, which is only a short motorcycle ride away.

Dick chatters on about his reinstatement at the precinct and the new cases he'd picked up while I respond with the shenanigans I got up to with Damian and Roy. I was starting ninth grade with Damian this coming fall, and he'd made it his mission to catch me up for it. Tim and Jason had both started their own teams but stopped by often.

As for the superhero world, Traveler, _ex exspiravit_, had made her debut the day of Vlad's attack. I chose the name after Vlad had been packed away and the press had escaped from their hidey-holes like cockroaches, desperate for new information on the story. I liked it; it described me just how I wished to be seen.

The _ex exspiravit_ came later, when I rejected all invitations to become a sidekick/member of any team and decided to help all heroes whenever I felt like it. The _ex exspiravit_ came from the latin term _ex machina_, meaning help when it's least expected and most needed. Someone decided "from the ghost" was a good parody of "from the machine" and the term just kind of stuck.

As for Vlad, he's now stuck in Blackgate prison for life without hope of parole, thanks to Tim and Babs gathering all incriminating intel from Vlad's personal computers. He wasn't able to buy his way out of it, especially since the money was reclaimed from the banks he'd robbed. He would've ghosted out already, but my modified, _permanent_ Plasmius Maximus took care of that.

And Danny… Danny and Sam got married in April. I was the ring bearer. Right now they co-owned FentonWorks, as the Fentons had more passion for teaching and designing than business. As it was, Sam dealt with the company while Danny tinkered in his lab.

Sometimes I intern there on Tuesdays.

After arriving at Bludhaven, Dick and I stakeout a gang hidey-hole and continue to chat. "Tell me about Roy," Dick inserts as a non sequitur, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Tell me about Barbara," I retort.

"That's different," he argues with a distinctly whiny tone. "I'm an adult."

"What's your point?"

"You're a teenager. A four year-old teenager."

I give him a blank look before returning my gaze to the gang, which had started a civil war with itself and was now beginning a battle. Swinging my legs over the side, I start to float down to them.

"All I'm asking is: how far have you guys gone?"

I laugh and land in the alley, gaining the attention of the gang. "You want to ask questions or you want to kick butt?"

Together, we charge.

**WOOHOO I'm done ;) ;)**

**I'm leaving this open for oneshots and maybe a short sequel where Dani and Roy break up (they will; it's like Dick and Zatanna in Young Justice) and I ship Damian and Dani (I don't know I just ship it) but it'll be a hot second. I have marching band and my senior year of high school, so it'll take a while for me to have enough time to start anything new/add anything. Let me know what your final opinion of my story is and thank you so much for sticking with me throughout all this!**


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